The Untraveled Road
by Richi03
Summary: Collection of oneshots about GG.  Mostly Lit.  Enjoy and R&R!
1. Denial is a River in Egypt

_**Disclaimer**: I do not own Gilmore Girls or any of the characters involved with it._

_**Author's Note: **Not entirely sure where this came from. It just kind of popped into my head and there you have it. Let me know what you think because reviews can only help me to be a better writer. Good or bad are welcome. Criticism is not the enemy it only helps me improve.  
_

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He doesn't believe in love. (Love is for the weak and he is not weak.) 

He tells himself he runs away from her because he does not want to hurt her. (It's partly true, at least.) He does not run away from her because he loves her and it frightens him. Nothing frightens him because he is the tough guy, the rebel, the town bad ass. Besides, he doesn't believe in love.

Love can only bring disappointment and pain and he just does not have time for either of those. He had hardened himself against pain and he would not let a tiny girl with bright blue eyes and chestnut hair ruin that. He would not let her tear down his only defense against the harshness of reality because it was all he had. He didn't know who he was with out it. It didn't matter anyways. He did not love her. (He didn't.) He certainly didn't care if she loved him. (He didn't.)

He left because he hated that town. He hated that town and those people with their prying words and judging eyes. He hated Luke always trying to tell him what to do. He hated being around all those happy smiles and corny festivals. He tells himself that all that love and caring almost suffocated him until he could barely breath. He tells himself that he never wanted them to accept him. (Who needs acceptance?) He tells himself that it didn't bother him when they looked at him in such a disapproving way whenever he walked past with their precious town princess. He doesn't care. (After all, he is not weak like them.)

_She pretends that she is fine when Lorelei questions her about how she is. (She is fine.) She says that she knew he would leave at some point, anyways, and she was prepared for it. She says it doesn't matter and that she doesn't need him. (She doesn't need him.) She says that he was just a phase, just a disease she had to get out of her system and now she is healthy again. _

_She does not share her tears with any of them. She waits for the darkness to envelope her, with only his Led Zepplin t-shirt and her pillow for comfort. Her tears soak into her pale blue sheets and when she wakes the next morning she tastes salt on her lips. She pretends that these nights never happen and that she does not cry for him. _

_She does not wish that she could be like him. She does not wish that she could simply pack a bag and leave everything behind. (Everyone behind.) She does not envy his cold, unfeeling, ruthlessness. (She doesn't.) She is not so weak as to leave. She is not the weak one. _

_He was always weak, she tells herself. She wraps her arms around herself, desperately wishing that she was not wishing that it was his arms around her trembling shoulders._

He takes walks in the early morning down the beach. He never wears shoes. He likes the feel of the sand on his bare feet and sometimes he goes to the edge of the water and simply watches as the tide covers his toes over and over in a rhythmic motion. He does not think about her as he watches the sun rise over the horizon. The sun shines brightly over the deep blue of the ocean and it does not remind him of her eyes. (He never thinks of her eyes.)

She does not love him and he does not love her. He does not believe in love and he knows he is not the guy that girls fall in love with. He is the guy that girls date to piss off their parents. He is the guy who is a constant bad influence. He is the stepping stone between trying to figure out what you want and finally knowing what you do want. He's never the something that anyone wants. (Never.)

He does not think of her every morning when he wakes, nor does he see her face in his dreams. When he wakes up with wet cheeks and a pain in his chest where his heart should be he tells himself that he must have dreamed that he was visiting Liz and TJ. He tells himself that the emptiness in his soul has always been there. (After all the devil has no soul.)

He does not love her because he does not believe in love. (Love is weak and he is not weak.)

_Days seem to melt together until she barely knows what time it is, let alone if it's Wednesday or Saturday. Tears are held constantly in her cerulean eyes, but she does not let them fall anymore. She tells herself that she will not cry over him ever again. (She doesn't.) She does not care about him. (How could one care about someone so unfeeling?) She tells herself that she never loved him to begin with. (She does not know what love is anyway.) _

_She never wonders if he thinks about her sometimes. She does not let herself dwell on the question of whether he left because of her or for some unknown reason that he would not share with her. She will not pine for him because she is not the pining type. She is the get over it type. She is a bouncy ball and by God she will keep bouncing back if it kills her. She will not let him destroy her. (She won't.)_

_Her bags are almost all the way packed and she does not feel sadness. She knows that she should because, after all, she is leaving home for the first time. She will no longer live in the Crap Shack with Lorelei, her mother, her best friend. She will come back only during summer and on her small breaks. She is now a Yale student. She is a dorm girl. _

_She can't wait to leave. She needs an escape from his memory.  
_

He sees a street vendor out of the corner of his eye and something makes him stop. Their are small souvenirs lined up on a counter top and postcards hanging by clothes pins on a line. One catches his eye and he tries to walk away, but he can't. Instead of towering buildings and bright city lights like most of the postcards, this one shows a small village upon rolling green hills. He tries not to think of a town just like it, but he fails miserably. (He always was a failure.) He hands the vendor a dollar and takes the postcard, stuffing it into his back jeans pocket and walking away. (It does not remind him of her.)

That night he goes for a walk because he can't sleep. He passes a telephone booth, but stops and then walks back to it. His hand rests on the black receiver for several minutes before he finally picks it up. He slides a quarter into the slot and his fingers dial the familiar numbers, him barely conscious of what he's doing. He does not care if she answers. (He doesn't.)

She answers on the first ring, her voice like a song through the receiver. She sounds like she'd been sleeping, but he's not entirely sure. He doesn't say anything because if he says something then he cares. (He wants desperately not to care.) She keeps saying hello, not hanging up like anyone else would. Just one word, stuck on repeat, until finally she says she can't handle prank calls without her morning coffee first and then he hears the dial tone. He tells himself he does not give a shit that she hung up. It's not like he loves her.

He does not believe in love.

_She puts the last box into her car and then turns to her mother. She lets herself be hugged and even stays still as Lorelei holds on a little longer than necessary. Her voice is emotionless as she says her good-byes and her I love you's. She gets behind the wheel and eyes the road with excitement. She is finally free. She is on her own._

_She starts driving the, now familiar, road towards Yale, but when it's time for her to take her exit she just keeps driving. She does not know where she is going and she does not care. She just knows that she needs to be away. Away from home and Yale and pressure. Away from memories and fading chocolate eyes. _

_She does not realize that she is heading for California. She does not intend to go that way. She doesn't want to be there. (She does NOT.) But she keeps driving and her hands won't listen because they don't turn when she tells them to and her head begins to hurt from the strain of denial. She is afraid because she has never felt this way and this is not something that she does, but she needs to do this. She does not want to be like him. She does not want to be a runner. _

_She has always been a runner._

He wakes up to Jimmy's girlfriend's kid staring down at him. She is asking who the girl is that Jess keeps calling out her name, but he does not answer her and he simply throws her out of his room. He did not dream of her. (Again.) He does not miss her. (He does...doesn't.) She was wrong to think they could be happy and he should not have let it go on as long as it did.

He knows he is always supposed to be alone. He doesn't want to be happy. (Scowling looks good on him.) He does not want to change. (Change, for him, has always been bad.) He tells himself he only chased after her as long as he did because it was funny to piss off the eight foot man. He stayed with her because it was a good way to pass the time until he had to leave. It doesn't matter to him that he didn't graduate high school and it certainly doesn't matter that he knew it would disappoint her.

He tells himself he'd glad he left her. He tells himself that he hated her innocence and destroying it was the best thing he could have ever done. (It was.) He tells himself that he uses her picture as a book mark so that he can slam the book on her face and revel in squashing her out once again. He tells himself that she means nothing to him. Meant nothing to him.

After all, he doesn't believe in being weak. (Love is weak.)

_She pulls up to a small house with a fenced yard. There are flowers every where and a small vegetable garden on the far right side. She feels her body taking her out of the car and walking towards the door painted a god-awful pea-green. She tells herself she is only here because he deserves to be yelled at. Deserves to be hurt. (She wants him to hurt.) _

_She knocks loudly on the door, squaring her shoulders as she does so. He opens the door and before she realizes what she's doing her palm has come into contact with his cheek and a sickening crack sounds in the air. She is not sorry and she will not act like she is. (She isn't and she doesn't.) He looks at her with surprise and she thinks she sees a hint of fear, but then it is gone and she knows she must have imagined it. _

_She tells him that she never cared about him. She screams at him that her mother was (is) right and he is nothing but a hoodlum. She goes on to rant about lies and nights spent waiting for him to call and a ruined relationship with the perfect guy. (Dean was so perfect.) She goes on to say that he is a burn out, a drop out, a waste of precious oxygen. _

_His eyes flicker with pain for a moment before it's gone, but she saw it and so she smiles._

When he opened the door to find her there he froze. She'd cut her hair. That was the thought that ran through his mind just before she slapped him, hard, across the face. Now he was only stunned as she did not even blink and began to yell at him. He told himself that she wasn't hurting him and that her words were only words. She would not bring him pain.

She finally stopped yelling and he still made no move to say anything. He just stared into her eyes, dark into light and wondered why she was smiling in such a cruel way. He'd never seen her smile like that, but it did not scare him. (He wasn't scared of anything.) She finally whispered something that he pretended not to hear. (_I love you.)_ He did not flinch when she turned away. He did not call out for her or run to catch her. He watched her small shoulders begin to tremble as she slowly walked away from him. He did not think of her after that moment. (He did not care enough.) He did not dream of her, waking up with tears on his face. (Men did not cry.)

He told himself he didn't love her, that he had never loved her. (Love was for the weak.) He told himself that he did not wish he had never left or that he had not just stood by and watched her walk away. Loving someone else was weak and she was weak. He hated weakness. (He hated her.)

He does not believe in love. (Love is for the weak and he is not weak.)

_She is standing in front of her dorm room with Dean beside her when he comes. She does not know what she says, but Dean finally leaves and she doesn't even care that anger radiates off of him. He is standing in front of her, saying something, but she barely registers the words and she does not realize what she's saying back to him._

_She hears him say that he wants her to leave with him. He says something about being able to count on him. (She doesn't care.) She tells him no. She just keeps repeating that word over and over. No. No. No. It becomes her mantra and she can say nothing else. (Nothing.) His eyes become defeated, but she does not notice. _

_She watches him walk away after she says no one last time. No. No. No. She lets herself sink onto the closest cardboard box and puts her head in her hands. She tells herself that she didn't (doesn't) want to leave with him. She tells herself that the only answer she could truly give was "no". She tells herself she does not love him. Never loved him. (She hates him.)_

_He taught her not to believe in love. (Love is for the weak and she is not weak.)__  
_


	2. Just a Father

_**Disclaimer**: I do not own Gilmore Girls or any of the characters involved with it._

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You weren't invited, but you still came. Her mother called you because she thought you deserved to at least know, even if you weren't welcome to be there. You never dreamed that it would come to this. You never thought that your actions would have this type of consequence and it hurts. God does it hurt, but you can't go back and change what you've done. She won't let you move forward and prove you can be there for her now. You've realized how much you really love her twenty years too late and now there's nothing you can do, but watch snippets of her life with out her being aware of it.

The band announces that it's time for the father/daughter dance and you find yourself taking a few steps forward, but freeze in your place when she steps out onto the dance floor with someone else. You recognize this man instantly and you feel as if she is stabbing you in the heart with a steak knife. Her blue eyes are staring up at him adoringly and you can see the pride in his eyes as he wraps his arm around her. Anyone who did not know would think that this other man was her real father, not just the stand-in.

For a moment you think that you are dying because you can't breath. You're gasping for air, but there seems to be no oxygen left for you and your lungs are burning. No one notices you standing there beside a tree watching as your little girl looks at someone else with a daughter's love. The song that plays kills you and it hurts so much to know that he deserves this. You never deserved her or her mother. This other man, this man that owns a rinky dink diner in this god-forsaken town, he deserved them both. He got them both and you...you are left with nothing, but fading memories and surprise visits.

You let yourself stand there watching her, long after the father/daughter dance has ended. You watch as she dances with her now husband, a boy that you have never even met. It hurts to know that you have not met him, that you are not important enough in her life to meet him. You smile, a sad smile, as you turn away and slowly walk back to your car. You do not see her watching you with eyes filled with pity. You do not see as her heart breaks a little, having to watch you walk out of her life for the umpteenth time. You are her father, but never her Dad.

You drive home and pretend that nothing bothers you. You are a Hayden and you will not let life get you down. You pretend that you do not jump every time the phone rings or race to the door whenever you hear the doorbell. You pretend that you are not always waiting for her to come see you.

You pretend that you are happy being her father. You pretend that you do not want to be her Dad.

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**_Author's Note: _**_Very short, I know. Just a little Christopher one-shot and this will most likely be the only one, unless something pops into my head. I doubt it will because I have never really liked Christopher. Anyways, please review and let me know what you think._


	3. Cookie Dough

_**Disclaimer**: I do not own Gilmore Girls or any of the characters involved with it._

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The night was enclosing in on her. Drops of rain fell upon her hair, skin, clothes, white cotton sticking to pale skin. A crack in the sidewalk caused her to stumble and a giggle to escape her lips. She reached out for something, anything, to steady herself with and found only air. Her knees scraped on pavement, but she barely felt it and only picked herself back up. Bright blue eyes scanned the buildings to her right, searching for the right one. When finally she found it, she managed to stumble up the concrete stairs, using the black, cast-iron, railing for support. 

His building was unlocked and there were no buttons to buzz people in, so she let herself inside. She climbed the stairs up to the second floor and made her way to #208. She stared at the door for a moment, taking note of the peeling white paint, and then knocked softly on the wood. After waiting for a minute, with no answer, she knocked again. For the second time, no one came to answer the door. This time she beat on the door with an urgency that she had not realized she'd felt. Relief washed over her when she heard movement from inside. The door swung open to reveal him, sleep-filled eyes and messy black hair. He wore only boxers, but she didn't feel embarrassment as she might have in the past.

"Rory?"

She didn't say anything, just grinned up at him and then pushed her way past him. She slipped her shoes off and then found her way to his kitchen.

"Rory, what the hell are you doing?"

She could hear the undertones of anger and bewilderment, but decided to ignore both. She searched his cupboards for coffee, finally finding some. She went about making the coffee and when it was brewing she sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter.

"Um, Rory, I asked you a question. What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," she said softly, her words slightly slurred.

"Why?"

"Just wanted to," she shrugged, wondering if he would understand the meaning in her words.

"That doesn't work anymore, Ror," he sighed, leaning against the stove opposite her.

"It's been almost two years, Jess. I know what I did was wrong, but can't you forgive me?" There was a slight whine in her voice that irritated him down to the bone.

"I forgave you the moment you did it. But you're right, it has been two years. Two years without seeing you or hearing from you or visits from you. Oh, and before that wonderful little kiss at Truncheon, when did you ever come to see me, Rory? When did you ever seek me out? As I recall it was always me seeking you out. It was always me trying to make things better. So please, enlighten me, why are you here?"

A tear slipped down her cheek, as she stared down at the hands in her lap. She lifted one of her hands, holding it front of her face and studying it.

"I used to know these hands," she mumbled softly.

He stayed quiet watching her. The girl in front of him was not the girl he'd fallen in love with. The girl he'd fallen in love with had been sweet, innocent, and in love with books. She'd been strong and sure of what she'd wanted. This girl in his kitchen was just a shadow of her. He didn't know who this girl was and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"Rory..."

She shoved her hands in front of his face, perfect white fingers dangling in front of chestnut eyes.

"Do you know these hands still?" It was a quiet plea, he knew. She wanted him to say that yes he knew those hands, but he'd be lying if he said he did.

"No, I don't," he said, shortly, gently pushing her hands down to the counter.

"You're not cookie dough anymore," she whispered, her eyes shining bright with unshed tears.

"What?" As much time as he'd spent with her and as much of her crazy talk he'd managed to decipher, this was beyond him. Cookie dough?

"You're not cookie dough anymore. You've been fully baked and are now a cookie. I'm still dough. I haven't been baked yet and I don't like it. I think I used to be baked and then I went doughy again. Can that happen? Can a cookie go doughy again? Why do you get to be a fully baked cookie and I don't?" Her tone had grown accusatory towards the end and Jess simply raised an eyebrow at her.

"You stopped loving me, didn't you?" She was staring down at her hands again, blue unable to meet brown. He saw the tears she'd been holding in begin to fall into her lap and he sighed, dragging his fingers through unruly black locks.

"What did you expect, Rory? Did you think I'd keep waiting for you, like some sort of love-sick puppy that just doesn't understand the word no? I tried, Ror. I would have given you everything, hell, I tried to give you everything and you threw it back in my face. I don't have anything left for you," his eyes were sad and his voice tired. He wished he could give her what she wanted. He wished he could rewind six years and never leave Star's Hollow, but he couldn't. He couldn't change what he'd done anymore than she could, no matter how much they both wanted to.

"I still love you," she whispered, finally looking up at him. Blue melted into brown and Jess found himself opening his mouth to mirror her words, but he quickly snapped his lips shut. He refused to go down that road again.

"I don't. Love you, I mean. I just don't anymore," he said it softly, trying to ease the blow as much as he could. He watched her as her small shoulders began to shake and silent tears turned to wracking sobs. Without saying another word, Jess carefully picked her up in his arms and carried her to his bed. He pulled the covers up around her and then turned and left the room to spend the night on the couch.

When he woke the next morning she was gone. He found only a note left on his pillow. He fell to the bed, burying his head in his hands and cried for the first time since he was nineteen and all she could say was "no".

_I guess we just never got our timing right. I'm the mess now and you're the stable one. Maybe in another life we could have been happy together, but I guess this one just isn't going to work for us. I'm truly sorry for everything. I'll always love you._

_-Rory_

_ps_

_I've always been able to tell when you were lying. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Maybe someday we'll meet again and we'll both be cookies, with us, you just never know. _


	4. Drowning

_**Disclaimer**: I do not own Gilmore Girls or any of the characters involved with it._

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He makes lists sometimes. (Not that he'd ever tell anyone.) He writes down all the terrible things he's done through the years, wondering which one caused him to deserve this cruel twist of fate. He thinks that loving someone who doesn't love you back must be the worst kind of pain there is. He reads Ann Rand, putting up with her nutty political views, if only to somehow feel close to a girl that forgot him a long time ago. (Is this why he's always liked Hemingway so much? Would he share the same fate?) He talks to Luke once a month, always careful not to mention a girl with blazing blue eyes and soft, dark hair. Somehow, though, Luke finds a way to tell him how she's doing. He wonders if Luke was the only one who ever really understood them, before he left of course. After he'd ran away, Luke had been adamant, on the point of violence, that he should stay away from her. (Apparently, he'd changed his mind.) 

There were moments when he thought maybe he was over her, but then the ache would come back into his heart and he knew he never would be. Whiskey became his lover and the bar his best friend. (Oh sweet fiery burn that glides down his throat.) Sometimes, only sometimes, the alcohol makes him think of her even more. Sometimes when he's so drunk he can barely remember his own name, he can see her lying in his bed staring at him with blue eyes so filled with innocence and questions that he finds himself crumpled on the floor, tears streaming down his face. Mostly though, the alcohol drives her from his mind until she is only a distant memory and the pain that burns his insides fades to only a dull ache and he can forget what drove him to drink in the first place. (What would she think of him now?)

She'd been proud of his book and he holds on to that as if it were the only thing keeping him from falling off the edge. (Maybe it is.) He writes three more novels, each one for her, about her. The dedication always the same. (To the only girl who ever held my heart. You inspired me in more ways than you'll ever know. Thank you for believing in me when no one else would.) He likes to think that she has all four of his novels. He likes to pretend that she reads them over and over until the edges of the covers are worn and beginning to fray. He imagines that the margins are filled with her thoughts on his words. (He knows she started writing in the margins after she saw that he did. One habit he'd taught her that she couldn't break.) He hopes that she keeps his books from her husband; hopes that she knows they are something private for only her and that _he_ can't be a part of that. (Blond dick from Yale.) He imagines her curled up in a worn arm-chair reading his books, feeling almost guilty for doing it because she knows that _Lo-_ (he can't even say the name) won't like it.

At least twice a week he picks up his phone and begins to dial her number, but then lets the phone fall from his hands. He has to remind himself that she's married now. She isn't his anymore, hasn't been for years now. (Does she ever think of him?) A memory of an invitation and an impromptu visit invade his thoughts and he takes another gulp of Jack, trying to push it out of his mind, but she is stubborn and it stays.

_He was in a good mood for the first time in months. His second book was being distributed and this time he didn't have to self promote it since The Subsect had done so well. He wondered if _she _would read it, but that only saddened him so he pushed the thought from his mind. He stopped at his mail box, pulling the small key from his pocket and opening it. There was only one envelope inside, a creamy thick envelope, with only his name and address written in curling calligraphy, there was no return address on it. Curiously, he ripped open the envelope pulling out it's contents. His heart stopped when he read the words written so beautifully on pale pink paper, outlined by red roses._

Lorelai _(since when had she ever been known as Lorelai?)_ Leigh Gilmore

and

Logan Huntzburger _(oh God, not the blond dick from Yale)_

invite you to share in the celebration of their wedding

Saturday, the twentieth of October

two thousand and seven at one o'clock in the afternoon

St. Mary's Church in Hartford

Dinner and reception to follow at the Hilton

Please R.S.V.P. by September 21st

_The paper floated from his hand and on to the floor at his feet. He couldn't believe she invited him. Didn't she know it would only stab at his heart, breaking an already broken man? (Did it matter to her?) Without thinking he picked up the invitation, clutching it in his hand until his knuckles turned white and running out to his car. He did not let himself think about what he was doing or what he would say as he drove the four hours to Star's Hollow._

_He drove past Luke's Diner, absently looking in window. That's when he saw her sitting at the counter with her mother next to her and Luke standing behind the counter speaking with them. He screeched the car to a halt and parked on the side of the road. He did not care that Lorelai hated him or that Luke would probably try forcing him, bodily, from the diner as soon as Jess started saying what he needed to say to Rory. He ran from his car, the invitation still in hand and made his way into the diner. The three were oblivious to his entrance as they continued their conversation, but they wouldn't be for long._

_Jess determinedly walked forward and without a work slammed the invitation down on the counter in front of his blue-eyed ex girlfriend._

_"Jess?" Her voice was confused and her eyebrows knitted together, but when she saw the look on his face and the invitation in front of her, realization took over her features._

_"Jess, I-"_

_"What the hell do you think you're playing at sending me this shit?" He yelled at her. Rory just stared up at him with pleading eyes, as Luke and Lorelai stared at him with wide eyes too surprised to interject._

_"Haven't you done enough damage? Dammit Rory!"_

_She seemed to have come out of her trance as she opened her mouth to speak, but before the words came out he was yelling at her again._

_"Ya' know, I was in a good mood today, for the first time in months. I'd finally managed to assemble some sense of peace and I was HAPPY! Happy, Rory. Do you know how rare that is for me? Then I open my mail box and find this. Well, can you imagine how that made me feel? Only six months ago you're coming to MY work and kissing me and then leaving me. I thought I was the fucked up one, but I really think that you take the cake with this one," he said bitterly, glaring at her with hatred and love warring in his chocolate eyes._

_"Jess please, I'm sorry. I didn't think, I guess. I just...I thought...I just really wanted you there. You're important to me," she whispered, guilt clouding her eyes._

_"Yeah well, Mrs. Huntzburger, don't count on me showing up. From now on, just pretend I'm dead," he muttered under his breath, turning around and walking away. _

_"Jess..." she started to say and then trailed off when he turned around and stared at her. The anger and hatred on his face was replaced with pure sorrow and defeat. It cut her to the core to see the look on his face and a tear trailed down her cheek. _

_"It is what it is. You. Me," he said softly, then turned back around, walking out of the diner and out of her life._

That day has haunted him for three years, the last time he saw her perfect face marred by tears. Tears that he had caused. (Would there ever be a day when a meeting between them would end in something other than tears?) Would he ever be able to think of her without this deep depression slinking it's way into his heart. Would he ever be able to sleep with another girl without pretending it was her?

The phone rings and he almost doesn't answer it, but with a sigh his hand reaches out and brings the white receiver to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey," a soft voice enters from the other end and he hates that he knows it's her immediately.

"What is it, Rory?"

He stares down at the counter, his expression blank. Carefully pushing the hope that threatens to blossom down.

"Well, I talked to Luke the other day and...well he said that he came to see you last month. He's worried about you, Jess," he hears the concern in her voice and pretends that he doesn't.

"What does it matter to you?"

"You matter, Jess. You've always mattered," she says it with a sad sigh and his heart cracks a little more.

"Why are you drinking so much?" She says when he doesn't say anything, cutting right to the chase. That's his Rory, never beating around the bush.

"Because."

"And it's the return of the monosyllabic man," she says bitterly.

He says nothing because there is nothing he can say. He grabs the bottle off the counter and raises it to his lips, needing to drown out his sorrow in the brown liquid. Her voice hurts him.

"Can't we be friends, Jess? Can't we ever let the past go?"

"Easy for you to say, _Mrs. Huntzburger_," he drawls out her name in an angry tone, wanting to hurt her, wanting to stab her the way she has stabbed him over and over again.

"It's been seven years since we were actually together, Jess. You need to get over it. You need to move on with your life," she says desperately.

"Why, Rory, so you don't have to feel guilty anymore?"

He knows he has hit a nerve when he hears her sharp intake of breath. It should make him feel better to know that she does feel guilt, but it doesn't, it only makes it worse. (Cutting his heart to know he hurts her, still.)

"Don't worry about me, Rory. I'm great. I'm just fucking peachy," he bites out at her.

"I do worry. I care about you, Jess," she whispers it, afraid of his sarcasm, afraid of his bitterness. (Afraid of her own lies.)

"Care, huh? What a weak emotion. I don't need you to care, Ror. I don't fucking need anything from you." (I need you to love me.)

"Please, Jess."

"Please what? Please stop drinking? Please give up the only thing that helps me get through the damn day? No, I don't think so, but thanks anyways."

He takes another drink, savoring the flavor that glides down his throat.

"You know what, Rory? I'm done with this. How about you get back to your cheating scumbag of a husband and I'll get back to my bottle?"

He does not wait for her to reply, simply slams the phone down on the cradle. He misses her voice as soon as it's gone and does his best to drown it out with his bottle, the only true lover he's had since her.


	5. Evil Clowns

_**Disclaimer**: I do not own Gilmore Girls or any of the characters involved with it._

* * *

She awoke with a scream on her lips. Trembling with fear, her eyes shot around the room terrified to realize she didn't know where she was. Panic seized her when she looked to her right and found the spot next to her empty. She shot out a hand and felt the space on the bed where he had been only to find it cold. Fat tears of fright rolled down her face and her sobs reverberated off the the thin walls of the small room. She heard footsteps just outside the door and like a little girl she pulled the covers up over her head, snuggling deep into the mattress wishing that she was invisible. 

"Rory?"

"Rory?"

"Hey, Rory, are you okay? I heard you scream," the husky male voice asked, concerned. She slowly lowered the covers so only her terrified blue eyes peaked out. She could see him trying to stifle a chuckle and her eyes turned to slits, even as more tears rolled down her face.

"Baby, were the clowns trying to get you again?" He came and sat on the edge of the bed, holding his arms out for her to crawl in his lap. Forgetting that she was mad at him for making fun of her, she scrambled forward and lunged into his arms.

"There were so many of them and I didn't know what to do. And they had on all this face paint and were holding knives and scissors and those unicycle thingys and they were chasing after me. I kept running and running, but they were so much faster than me and I couldn't get away. It was so scary, Jess!" She rambled on, burying her face into his chest.

"It's alright now, love. I'm here to protect you and I won't let the mean clowns hurt my darling girl," he couldn't hold it in anymore and a snort escaped.

Rory glared up at him, jumping from his lap and stamping a bare foot on the cold wood floor.

"This is NOT funny, Jess Mariano! It was really, really scary!" She pouted, reminding him so much of a five year old in a temper tantrum that he simply started laughing harder.

"Fine be that way. You just don't care about me at all. You don't care that they were going to do unspeakable things to me and that they were EVIL clowns!" She yelled out at him, spinning around and flouncing out of the room.

Jess managed to choke back his laughter and quickly followed after her. He found her sitting in the living room, her knees curled up to her chest, staring at a book on the coffee table with fear on her face.

"Rory, you are not allowed to read that book anymore. Every time you do, you end up having nightmares for weeks!" Jess exclaimed, plucking the book off the coffee table and jamming it onto the bookshelf lining the wall.

"I know, but it's such a _good_ book," she whined, looking up at him with wide innocent eyes.

"_IT_, is not a good book. It's Stephen King garbage that always terrifies the crap out of you. I swear, I don't know why you read that crap!"

"Don't you dare insult Stephen King, Mariano!"

Jess ran a hand through his messy black hair and looked down at his petite girlfriend with amused chocolate eyes.

"I'll insult anyone I want."

"You know you're just jealous because you can't write horror like he can," she said snidely, crossing her arms against her chest.

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered, looking away from her.

"HA! It's true. You want to be able to write a scary story? Does wittle Jessie want to be just wike Stephen?" She teased, a smile playing at her cherry lips.

"Don't you start with that Jessie crap," Jess warned her, irritation in his voice.

"Jessie. Jessie. Jessie. Jessie. Je- AGH!"

Jess had lunged himself at Rory, sliding his hands under her shirt and tickling her stomach. She screamed for him to stop, even as he assaulted her more.

"Take it back!" He yelled, tickling her mercilessly.

"NEVER!"

"Take. It. Back. Now!"

"You may take my life, but you will never take my FREEDOM!" Rory called out between laughter, trying in vain to get away from her boyfriend.

Jess stopped suddenly, falling on to the couch beside Rory.

"Hey, wanna watch Braveheart?"

"It's three in the morning Jess!"

"Uh, so what? We're both awake and you know we won't be able to get back to sleep and tomorrow is Saturday..." he trailed off, giving her a childish look of hope.

"Fine. Remind me not to quote movies late at night anymore," she grumbled, getting up from the couch and shoving Braveheart into the DVD player.

"You love this movie!"

"Uh yeah, I did. BEFORE you made me watch it like 500 times in the past two weeks," she exclaimed, throwing herself down beside him.

"Hey! It's all your fault, you know. If you hadn't quoted that line and I wouldn't have said Huh? I would still be oblivious to the greatness that is Braveheart and you wouldn't have to watch it so much. Besides, it has not been 500 times. I'll give you eight," he rambled on.

"I think living with me has rubbed off on you. I can no longer call you the 'monosyllabic man'!"

"Don't be so sure. My ability to speak only comes out around you," he snickered.

"Oh well aren't I a lucky girl," Rory said sarcastically, rolling her eyes up at the ceiling.

"Ha! You love me," Jess said confidently, putting an arm around her shoulders.

"You wish," she shot back.

"Admit it, you love me."

"Not in this life-time buddy."

"You love me!"

"Maybe in your dreams. Now shush the movie's on. If you're going to make me watch it then you have to at least be quiet," Rory stated, waving her hand in front of him.

Rory snuggled closer to Jess, resting her head on his chest as they watched the movie. About fifteen minutes into it, she turned her face to his and blue melted into brown.

"Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I know."

Rory glared at him and swatted at his head, but Jess quickly ducked, anticipating the move before it even happened. He grinned down at her, cheekily and then kissed the top of her head.

"Love you, too, Ror."

* * *

**_Author's Note: _**_Alright this was completely pointless Literati drabble, but it was not sad. I know I tend to write a lot of depressing stuff, but usually that's just cause writing is my way of getting out all the crappy emotions I go through so I don't start ripping innocent people's heads off. Instead of doing that, I make my characters miserable...hahaha. Anyways, I hope ya'll enjoyed this. I'm going to try my hand at a JavaJunkie ficlet next. If anyone ever has ideas or requests for one-shots, just send me a message and I'll do my best to see it through. _

_Thank you for all the awesome reviews and keep 'em coming._

_-Rachael_


	6. Bitterness & Lost Daughters

_**Disclaimer**: I do not own Gilmore Girls or any of the characters involved with it._

* * *

You see the small white paper folded into a perfect square on the dinning room table as soon as you enter the room. From your spot in the doorway you see_ Mom & Dad_ scrawled across the paper in Lorelai's loopy hand-writing and you feel your heart stop. You vaguely hear Richard calling for you from behind, but the words barely register as you slowly walk forward. With trembling hands you pick up the paper and unfold it, absently smoothing out the creases. Tears form in your eyes as you read her words and the letter flutters from your hands as you pull all of your strength together not to sink to the cool, hard-wood floor. 

You feel, rather than hear, Richard standing behind you, asking you what's wrong. You say nothing, but nod curtly at the paper lying on the table. His large hands reach out and pick it up. After a minute his arms are around you, pulling you into this broad chest, as tears wet his shirt. You feel his own tears drop into your hair and it scares you because you've only ever seen him cry once before and that was when Lorelai was born. You don't know what to do and there are no words for you to say, so you just bury your face into his chest and cry harder, your sobs shaking your frail shoulders.

A week goes by and you still have no call from your only daughter. You walk through your house like a zombie, refusing to receive visitors or telephone calls. Nothing has ever stopped you from attending your weekly meetings, but you fail to go because you simply can't face the prying eyes and fake words of sympathy from your so-called friends. You sit on Lorelai's bed most days, staring forlornly at the clothes she'd left strewn out on her floor. You forbid the current maid to enter her room, hoping that Lorelai will come back home.

After a month you have resigned yourself to the fact that your daughter will not return. You slowly start going back to your old routine, pasting fake smiles on your face, not letting any of the depression or bitterness shine through. You are Emily Gilmore and you do not let anything get you down for long. Richard sees through your facade, but he does not say a word for which you are extremely grateful. He knows one word about Lorelai will crack the frail wall you have resurrected around your broken heart and you don't think you could survive if it comes crumbling down.

Late at night when you think Richard is asleep you sit in the living room, thumbing through photo albums, wondering where it all went wrong. You know you have made mistakes where Lorelai was concerned, but you had thought she understood. Silly of you, really, to expect a sixteen year old girl to understand the short-comings of her mother. You have regrets, so many regrets that constantly float in and out of your mind, wishing with all of your heart that you could turn back time and be the mother your little girl deserved. Did you not give her enough love? You know the answer to that question, but turn your back on it because you can't let yourself face it. You realize now that you tried to replace love with money and presents.

You wish you could have told her you love her.

When you finally get a phone call from her, slightly over a month after she left, your tone turns icy and the words coming from your lips are cruel and bitter. In your head you are screaming at yourself for acting this way, but your mouth has a mind of it's own and will not obey your thoughts. She hangs up on you, calmly telling you this is exactly why she left and you sink to the floor, tears of misery sliding down your cheeks. You realize then that you have truly lost her.

You take her note from your pocket, where it is always kept, and stare down at her words. You wish you could tell her that you do love her. You do. You only ever wanted what was best for her and you made the mistake by not listening to what she thought was best for her. You wish you could tell yourself the rest of what she said were lies, but what was the point in denying it to yourself? You hate that you have hurt her so. You hate that you have lost her and bitterness steals it's way into your heart so you nurse it like you would a babe. You turn cold and you know that you have lost all the happiness you thought you had.

_Dear Mom & Dad,_

_I'm truly sorry that it has come to this and I can't tell you how much I wish it had all gone differently. I know that since the day I learned to talk I have been only a disappointment to you both. It hurts me to know that, so much. I found a job at a small inn not far from here and the woman who owns it has agreed to let me rent a little house not from the inn. _

_I wish I could tell you that I regret having Rory, but I don't. She is the single joy in my life and I love her more than I thought it possible to love another human being. I never knew what it could be like and I'm so happy that's she's here. I won't let her grow up the way I did. I won't let her be stifled and ignored. I will let her be her own person, whether that means she wants to join the circus to be a trapeze artist when she grows up or she chooses to go to Harvard and become a doctor. No matter what she chooses to do it will be the right choice for her and I will support her in it, no matter what. _

_I wish...I wish that you had wanted to get to know the person I am, instead of trying to turn me into someone I'm not. I try not to blame you, because it all you have known. I just hope you can see that your life, the society life, is not something I want. It's never been something I wanted and I need to finally start thinking of myself and of Rory. I want us to be happy. _

_I want you to know...I love you both so much.  
_

_I wish you could love me. _

_Lorelai_

* * *

_**Author's Note: **I know I said I was going to try a little JavaJunkie, but Emily was screaming at me for attention and who can say no to Emily Gilmore? Her relationship with Lorelai has always fascinated and saddened me and I wondered for a long time what it must have been like for her to come home one day and find her daughter gone. I hope you all like this, please let me know what you think and if I did the story line justice. _

_Reviews are love._

_-Rachael  
_


	7. By the Light of the Moon

_**Disclaimer:**I don't own Gilmore Girls and no amount of wishing will make it so... sigh ..._

* * *

_Once a month._

Once a month is what he gets when the moon is burning bright in the night sky and the darkness covers their sins. He is not meant to have her in the sunlight. He is not meant to have her at all. She does not give apologies and he does not ask for them. Her piercing blue eyes tell him stories of long nights left alone, hands marring white skin, tears shed in darkness. The bruises that lay upon her skin are not spoken of. He pretends he does not see them and she pretends they are not there.

She fell asleep once. Only once. He stayed awake watching her chest rise and fall with rhythmic breathing. He reached out and traced her bruises with a single finger tip, wanting so badly to wash them all away. That was when he found the scar. One long, white line running across her stomach and he wondered what it was from. His finger was sliding across it when she woke. She did not say a word, simply reached out and grasped his hand in hers tightly, so tightly it almost hurt. _Baby_, was the single word she uttered before her eyes filled with tears that would not fall. That was the closest he ever got to telling her he knew.

_He knew._

There are times she begs him to hurt her. She comes barging into his apartment like a hurricane, pouncing on him without even a hello. Those are the nights she looks up at him with pain-filled blue eyes and forces his hands to dig deep scratches in her back. Scratches that almost draw blood. He almost hates her when she does this. He hates himself for letting her make him.

_She leaves scratches as well. Marks on his skin. Bruises on his heart._

Other nights he takes her painfully slow. He savors every moment, ever touch, every kiss. When she tries to quicken the pace he simply stops, laying on top of her until he is sure she will not fight the gentleness. He can see how much it hurts her in her eyes. He revels in her pain, enjoying that he can still hurt her this way. Deluding himself into believing that maybe she does still love him. A little. Even just a little.

_He tells himself a little is enough._

She never stays the night. He's not sure why it bothers him because he knows how much harder it would be to give her up in the daylight. She leaves sometime between one and three when she thinks that he is asleep. He feels her lips on his forehead and the inevitable sigh that escapes every time. He hears the whispered "I love you" that should never have been spoken.

_He dares not sleep when she is there, fearing it will be the last time._

He wants to hate her. He wants to feel that burning passionate hatred rise within him when his eyes find hers, but he can't. He can't hate her and it hurts. God, does it hurt. He will always love her and he will never have her. She would rather have a life of fear and fists, than have a life with him. He is doomed to forever be the "other man". That's how he came into her life, and apparently that is how he will go out of it. He does not think he really matters to her.

_If only he knew..._

Most nights she cries herself to sleep, pretending his arms are wrapped around her thin waist. She pictures dark, unruly hair and smoldering chocolate eyes. When hard fists collide with pale skin, she drifts away to another time and place when she was young and happy. Once she sighed his name in her sleep and spent the rest of the week in the local hospital.

_She no longer falls asleep first._

She remembers ice cream in cones. _The only way to eat ice cream._ She thinks of _Howl_ and _"Dodger". _Days spent simply sitting with each other on "their" bridge reading books, the scratch of his pencil on paper the only sound made. She remembers kisses that melted her soul and healed her heart. She remembers him coming to her dorm room and she wishes she said yes, instead of no.

_Yes. Yes. Yes._

She tells herself that she does not deserve him after all that she has done. Her brain has been so warped by scathing remarks and words of worthlessness that she does not think she deserves happiness...love. She steals snippets of time with him, if only to be near him again. She thinks he uses her for sex. She thinks he must be the same as all the others. Must be. Why else would he not try to save her. Is she not worth saving anymore?

_She does not think of how it affects him._

_She does not think he cares._


	8. Dear Jess

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gilmore Girls. Or Jess...sadly._

_**Author's Note: **Open-end lit. Make of it what you will. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Bad or good. So review, please. Thanks to those of you who do.  
_

* * *

Jess Mariano does not like surprises. In fact, he hates them. For almost two years his life has been exactly the same. Wake up. Have breakfast at _Hal's_. Go to work. Go home. Write. Eat dinner. Read. Sleep. Repeat. Blame it on all the moving while he was growing up or all the running he did in his late teens. But whatever the reason, Jess Mariano enjoys the sameness of his life. Which would be the reason why when he walks into _Hal's_ and sees _her_ he has the urge to start screaming. 

She should not be here.

He briefly entertains the notion of turning around and walking out, but that would be cowardly and he decided two years (seven months, eight days) ago that he was no longer a coward. Running no longer suited him. So instead, he walked right past her and situated himself at the counter on the stool he always sat at. He ordered the same meal he ordered every morning and took long drags of the cigarette between his lips. He can hear her making soft sighing noises and wonders of she's trying to get his attention, but he will not be the first to make contact. No. Not this time.

He feels a tap on his shoulder and slowly, so slowly, he turns around to face her. Dark chocolate stare into sad blue and his broken heart cracks, ever so slightly.

"Well, small world, hey?" He smirks at her raising an eyebrow as she smiles feebly at him. She sits beside him without saying a word and he sighs.

She is the one that should feel uncomfortable. Not him. This is his turf. This is his town.

_I get to leave first! No you don't get to walk away! My town! I leave!_

"So...how are you?" Her voice sounds different somehow. Still the same Rory sounding voice, but he can hear the undertones of sadness and...insecurity? Since when has Rory Gilmore ever been insecure?

"Good. What are you doing here, Rory?" Straight to the point.

Get it over with.

"Writing. I write. Freelance, mostly and I had a meeting with the Senator yesterday. Since I had the chance to, I figured I'd take a couple days. You know, just have some me time. Mom and Luke just got back from the honeymoon and I thought they might want some time, you know, alone. Or whatever," she was rambling. He used to love how she rambled when she was nervous. Now he just wished she would stop talking.

"Yeah, tell Luke I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the wedding."

"Sure. He wouldn't admit it, but he was pretty bummed. He wanted you to be the best man," she looked down at her hands, "why didn't you come?"

Jess just looked at her, his eyes telling her all she needed to know.

"Oh."

"Yeah," he replied.

"Um, okay I know this may seem weird, but...well I have something...for you," Rory stammered out, grabbing her purse and digging through it. Jess just watched as she pulled a piece of crumpled, torn notebook paper out of her purse and then shoved it into his hands.

Sighing, Jess opened it up, then scratched his head at what she'd written.

_Dear Jess,_

Or lack of what she'd written.

"I tried writing it like a million times, but it never came out right. In the end that's all I had," she whispered, running her fingers through her long dark hair.

"Words were never really our strong suit," Jess replied stoically.

"Not when it came to feelings," Rory said softly.

"Rory-"

"No. Wait. I mean...well...dammit. Words never seemed to be enough when it came to you. I could never find the right ones," her hands were shaking. He wondered why her hands were shaking.

"I gave you words, Rory."

"But you never gave me actions," she looked away, staring out the window at the people passing by.

"Doesn't really matter anymore does it?" He asked her, looking pointedly at her left hand. She laughed then, a dark, cynical laugh, that he never would have guessed could come from her lips. She raised her hand, staring at the glittering diamond on her ring finger.

"I left him. Just can't seem to part with the ring."

"Why?"

"It's pretty? I don't know."

"No, why did you leave him?"

This time it was Rory who sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. She shrugged before looking away from him once more.

"Why?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"I just do."

"It was never right. I wanted it to be right, but it wasn't. I think I always knew it wouldn't work out, but I didn't want to admit it," her voice was slowly becoming more assertive with each word she spoke.

He wondered where her new found confidence was coming from.

"What made you admit it?"

He was curious. That was all. He was just...curious.

"Your second book," she said simply, looking at him with cautious eyes.

"Right. So what now?"

"Beats me. I was hoping you would have the answers. You seem to be the one who does these days," and there was that laugh again.

He just stared at her, not knowing what to say.

She simply stared back.


	9. Like mother, like daughter

_**Disclaimer:**I don't own Gilmore Girls...or Jess...sigh..._

* * *

"GET UP! COME ON! WE'RE PACKING!" Rory yelled, running around her mother's room, pulling clothes out of drawers and piling them up on the bed. 

"Rory? Rory what's going on?" Lorelai, asked sleepily, slowly sitting up in bed.

"We're going on a trip. We haven't done that in a long time. You know, just packed up and gone on a road trip. We need to. So get up and start packing," the younger Gilmore girl urged on, struggling to pull her mother's duffel bag out of her very messy closet.

"Rory-"

"I was thinking we could go to Pennsylvania. Maybe Philly? You know I've always wanted to explore that area. So much history," Rory babbled on, talking over Lorelai.

"Rory, stop!" Lorelai finally shouted, jumping out of bed and grabbing Rory by the shoulders. Rory stared up at her mom, tears gathering in her bright blue orbs.

"We can't go on a road trip. You're getting married in two days!"

Rory shook her head, brown locks flying around her face.

"You are getting married, aren't you?" Lorelai questioned, brushing the hair out of Rory's face.

"No," came Rory's short reply.

"Why not, baby?"

Rory thought about it for a moment, then looked up into Lorelai's eyes that mirrored her own.

"I didn't want to try on my wedding dress every night," Rory whispered, repeating the words of her mother from so long ago. Tears started to trail down her face as she looked away, out the window. Lorelai studied her daughter, then quickly began gathering her things and throwing them into the bag that was laying carelessly on the bedroom floor.

"So Philly, hey? What's in Philly that you want to see so bad, babe?"

Rory smiled softly at her mother, knowing that she would understand.

"An old friend."


	10. 25 Words

_**Disclaimer:**I don't own Gilmore Girls...or Jess...sigh..._

* * *

**Twenty-Five Words that Remind Rory of Jess**

_1. Rain_

One night he came tapping at your window, beckoning for you to come out into the dark rain-filled night. You followed him out, unsure of what he wanted. When you began to speak, he turned to you with a half-smile and pressed a single finger to his lips. "Just listen," he whispered. The two of you stood there, letting the rain slide down your faces, matting your hair to the back of your neck, in silence.

Later, after he left, you think he is similar to rain. Dark, yet beautiful.

_2. Smirk_

Each time Logan smirks at you, you are transported back to another time and place when another boy smirked at you with laughter in his dark eyes. His smirk always held a special place in your heart.

_3. Book_

He used to call you just to read a single line from a book that he thought you would like. After he read it to you, he would tell you what those words meant to him. In those moments, he let you see inside of him. Those were the only times he ever let you past the stone wall he held around his soul.

_4. Translucent_

When you saw him with Shane you felt translucent, see through, as if you weren't even there. He'd look at you, but it was as if he was looking past you, through you, to a space in the back of your head that no one else ever bothered to see. He'd glare at you then, in that way he had, that made you feel about two inches tall and then reconnect his face to Shane's.

You wished that Shane was the translucent one.

_5. Diner_

You do not let it show because you are Rory Gilmore and nothing really keeps you down for long, but every time you walk into a diner (it doesn't even have to be Luke's) you find yourself searching for him. You've seen him two-hundred-and-fifty-three times since the day he left.

You see his face in ever server that pours your coffee.

_6. Kiss_

When Dean kissed you, you felt a warm sensation in your belly not unlike the sickly sweetness of summer. Even then, you knew there was something missing, but you ignored it because Dean was so sweet, so good.

When you kissed Jess, the warmth spread throughout your heart starting a fire that you feared would not be contained. He showed you what passion meant.

_7. Safety_

When he held you in his arms, you felt as if nothing could ever hurt you. The only true feeling of safety you ever felt was within his arms.

_8. Run_

He ran from you as if you were nothing. He left without even saying goodbye and it hurt, it hurt so bad that you could barely breath. Then he comes back and hope flickered, but he ran again. The next time, you smash the hope that threatens to bloom and in doing so crush the only man you've ever loved.

Sometimes you wonder when it was that the two of you switched roles. Now you are the one who runs, while he stays still...waiting, constantly waiting for you.

_9. Leather_

After he left, you went out and bought a leather jacket, keeping it safely hidden beneath your bed. Sometimes, late at night, you pull it out and let yourself be wrapped in it. You pretend it is his and that he is there beside you.

When you sleep, you dream of unruly dark hair and stormy eyes.

_10. California_

Is California a state that draws the runners, or only those who run from you? It is where your father ran to, shortly after you were born. It is where Logan went after you told him no. It is the state that stole Jess from you.

You promise yourself that you will never go to California, for fear that you will hit every person you meet for always stealing the men in your life.

_11. Keg_

Every time you go to a house party, you are reminded of the last night you were truly happy. You see in your mind's eye the way it was with Jess and you see where it all went wrong up in Kyle's bedroom. You wish you had told him you loved him then, but you had thought you had more time.

You always think there's more time.

_12. Alcohol_

Luke told you about the empty bottles of Jack Daniel's scattered throughout Jess's crappy New York apartment. You worry, silently, praying that he has not fallen further into the dark abyss you had tried so desperately to pull him from.

It isn't long before you begin to slip into the abyss, a bottle of Jack Daniel's held firmly in your small hand.

_13. Dodger_

He was your Dodger. He stole your book, but even more, he stole your heart. The book he returned, but the heart is still held within his calloused hands.

_14. Fate_

You never believed in fate until you met him. You think it may have been fate that he came to your little town. You hope that fate will guide him back to you.

_15. Prom_

You have a flowing pale yellow dress folded neatly in a cardboard box that you never got to wear. You imagine dancing in a crepe-filled school gym, held in the arms of your doomed love.

You dream of this long after the debris he left behind have settled.

_16. Box_

He has five boxes. They are filled with various books, small knick-knacks, a Luke's menu, the bridesmaid dress from Sookie's wedding, letters that you wrote but never sent, a million little things that remind you of him. When you finished packing everything away that long ago day your room was almost bare. Over the years other small things have been added and you wonder if you will ever be finished packing things away into your Jess box.

Dean only had one small box.

Logan has no box.

_17. Future_

You dreamed of a future where he was a permanent fixture. Your dreams crumbled the day he walked away. The day you realized he probably never saw a future with you.

_18. Subsect_

When you hold his book in your hands for the first time you have to remind yourself to breath. He wrote a book. He actually wrote a book. When you open it and read the words printed on the pages you feel as if you are complete again. For the whole hour and half it took you to read his book, you were transported back to four years ago when he was by your side.

You are back inside his mind when you read his words, his thoughts, and you wish you never had to leave it.

_19. Fear_

You realize now that he left partly because he was afraid and partly because he wanted to finally know his dad. You couldn't understand back then why he was afraid, but you think you do now. You think that if he felt even a fraction of the fear you feel now when you think of him, then maybe he was right to run away.

_20. Dying_

Each time he walks away from you, you feel your soul die a little more. You fear that one day you will be left with a dead soul, and no one to truly care.

_21. Brown_

Brown is the color of his eyes, eyes that could hold you captivated for hours. Messy tendrils of dark hair used to fall into those eyes and you never thought they would both be torn from you.

_22. No_

Your answer to his plea to give him another chance. No. The only word you could think to say when he'd come begging you to run away from him. No. You hated your lips for forming that one word.

That word was your damnation.

_23. Yes_

The single word you wished you would have said to him. The single word you never could seem to form when he was near. You'd stood in front of your mirror countless times repeating that single word over and over. Yes. Yes. Yes.

This word would be your salvation, but would it ever come?

_24. Cone_

He testified that ice cream could be eaten only in cones. That was the moment you knew. That was when your heart was lost to him.

_25. Love_

When it came to love you never really seemed to get it right. You told Dean you loved him because he was your safety net. If you were with Dean you didn't have to hunt up for an excuse not to date someone else. You told Dean you loved him because you never really would.

You blurted it out to Logan that you loved him, subconsciously hoping it would push him away from you. The affect seemed to be the opposite, but you continued to tell him you loved him. But now you were trying to convince yourself you really did.

You never told Jess you loved him. Once over the phone you said you thought you might have, but it's not the same. By then he was already gone and you knew he wouldn't be coming back. You wonder if he would have stayed had you told him, or if it just would have made him run sooner.

Jess to you is love, but you let it slip away and somehow you know that you can never get it back. He gave you more chances than you ever gave him and you screwed them up every time. You just hope that somehow he knows that somewhere, in a small town, there's a girl he used to know who still loves him.


	11. Bar Drabble

_**Disclaimer: **I own nothing._

_**Author's Note: **Major randomness that just sort of got stuck in my brain. Let me know what ya'll think._

_Warning: Major drabble, very short and very bad. _

* * *

"So she dumped you," it was a statement not a question. 

"Yep."

"Hence the drinking?"

"You'd know, wouldn't you?"

"I ran from her, I'll have you know."

"But in the end, she's the one who crushed you."

"She tell you?"

"Yeah. What are you doing here anyways? Thought you lived in Philly."

"My uncle called and told me it was her graduation. I was supposed to go to her Chilton graduation, but I missed it. Figured, even if she doesn't know I came to this one, at least I showed up."

"So it's true then."

"What?"

"You never get over her."

"No. No, I don't think it's possible to get over a Gilmore."

"It sure is good while it lasts though, ain't it?"

"Yeah. It sure is."

"We're not bonding, are we?"

"What? Hell no."

"Good. Cause I really hate you."

"Pretty sure I hate you more, Richie Rich."

Jess and Logan were silent after that, drinking their respective beers.


	12. Rory Box

_**Disclaimer: **I own nothing._

_**Author's Note: **Reviews are love :)_

* * *

_He has a Rory box. _

_There isn't that much inside, but enough to keep it full. Scattered throughout a few shirts and a sweatshirt are old movie stubs, and there are three thick envelopes filled with pictures of them together. In the very bottom, tied in red ribbon, are letters she'd written him. Most of them are from when she was in D.C., but there are a few that she wrote while he'd been in Chicago visiting family. _

_Dean likes to think that she has a box of her own that she rifles through from time to time. He likes to think that she misses him, but he knows it isn't true._

_Lindsay found the box after they'd been married for a couple months and it had ended in a three day fight. She hated that he refused to get rid of these few precious memories he had from when he and Rory were together. _

_He hated that he married her._

_He knew he'd made mistakes when it came to Rory. He knew that he'd been overbearing and jealous, but he just loved her so much. It was unfathomable to him that a girl as pretty and smart as she was would actually want to be with him and he just knew that she would leave him. He knew that someday she would realize that they had next to nothing in common and that she was headed for great things, while he was destined to work at Doose's or at some other mediocre job for the rest of his life. So he'd held on too tight, crushing the wings that he knew were begging to be freed._

_It seemed paradoxical to him that while he'd broken up with her, he was the one left with a broken heart. But isn't that the way life goes? When Jess took off it shamed him that a part of himself had danced with joy on the inside. He'd seen her in town struggling to put up this facade of being okay, but her eyes were constantly filled with tears._

_Her innocence is what captivated him and it was that same innocence that broke his heart._

_Years later after he'd gotten back together with Lindsay and had resigned himself to living this life, he ran into Jess at a bar in Hartford. The hatred he'd expected to feel upon seeing his high school rival was replaced with a sense of companionship. The two men sat and had a beer together, both with memories flying through their heads._

_Jess had turned to him with haunted eyes and no words needed to be spoken. They both knew it was Rory they were thinking of. They both knew it was her that linked them. _

_Everyone had been so worried about her heart being broken, but in reality she was the one who had left broken hearts in her wake. _


	13. Last Wish Part One

_**Disclaimer: **I own nothing._

_Author's Note: This will be a two-parter. I was going to make it just a one shot, but I think it would end up being way too long for one sitting. Let me know what ya'll think.  
_

* * *

_i._

"Rory," he says, only a slight sound of surprise in his tone. The petite brunette holds back tears as she nods her head and makes her way into his small hospital room.

"Who told you?"

She quickly wipes the tears away before he can see them and carefully sits on the edge of his bed. It startles her to see how emaciated he is and the urge to ask him to run away with her is strong. Instead she lifts her head and gives him a weak smile and whispers, "Luke let it slip."

Jess simply nods, resigned to the fact that she now knows. He lifts a trembling hand from beneath his blankets and twines his fingers with hers, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"I didn't want you to know," he says weakly, not daring to look her in the eyes.

"You should have told me. It shouldn't have been Luke telling me, it should have been you," Rory whispers no longer able to keep the tears from falling down her pale cheeks.

"Yeah, I'd make the call and say what? Hey, Ror, I know we haven't spoken in a couple years but I thought you should know I'm dying? No thanks," Jess bit out sarcastically.

"Don't say that," Rory said softly, clutching his hand like a life line.

"That I'm dying? It's the truth. I've accepted it, Rory," Jess sighed, rubbing a hand over his bald head, "Maybe I should have called, I don't know. I just...I couldn't."

"Okay. Okay, I think I can understand why you couldn't. But now that I know, you're not getting rid of me, Mariano. I've got to get to work, but I'll be back tomorrow. Alright?"

Tear-filled blue finally meets hard brown and he slowly nods, realizing it would be a losing battle. She leans over and brushes a soft kiss on his papery cheek and leaves the room.

_ii._

_"Eavesdroppers-," she began furiously.  
"Eavesdroppers often hear highly entertaining and instructive things," he grinned. "From a long experience in eavesdropping, I-"  
"Sir," she said, "You are no gentleman!"_

"Rory," Jess cut in, placing a hand on her thin arm.

"Huh? Oh what?" Rory asked, looking up from the book she was reading.

"Why are you reading me _Gone With the Wind_?" Jess asked her, hiding a smirk.

"It's one of my favorite books, Jess! I just can't believe you'd never read it before," the brunette cried out indignantly.

"It's a romance novel," he replied, dryly.

"Oh it's so much more than that. It's about human character and making mistakes and oh...oh you just don't understand!"

"Explain it to me," he said.

"Rhett Butler reminds me of you," she whispered and then quickly began reading again.

Jess smiled.

The rest of the time she was reading, he left his hand on her arm.

_iii._

"You're going to see him again," Logan said, it was a statement, not a question.

"I go see him every Monday and Thursday, Logan. You know that," Rory sighed as she swept her long chestnut hair up into a pony-tail.

"Why, Ace? Why do you have to keep seeing him?"

"He's SICK! Don't you get that? It's not like he has a fucking cold, Logan. He has cancer," Rory yelled, whirling around and throwing her hands up in the air.

"I don't like it. I don't want you seeing him anymore!" Logan yelled at her, his face turning red with anger.

Rory didn't even think, her hand shot out and slapped Logan across the face, hard. Her whole body was trembling with anger as she stood before him, hands clenched into fists at her side. Logan simply stared at her, his eyes turning hard. Before Rory even realized what was happening she was being slammed against the wall and his fist was colliding with her face.

"Don't you EVER, slap me again," Logan whispered after backing away from Rory. He gave her a disgusted look before leaving her crumpled in a ball on the floor and storming out of the apartment they shared.

_iv._

Jess was beginning to get worried. Rory always came at eleven o'clock, never a minute sooner or a minute later and it was now 11:30. He was terrified that she wasn't going to come visit him anymore and she was the only reason he was still fighting as hard as he was. Just as he was about to give up hope, Rory walked briskly through the door and into his tiny room.

"Hey, I was getting worried you weren't going to come," Jess sighed, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

"Oh, um, no. I just got...held up," Rory mumbled, staring down at her feet. Instead of sitting on the edge of his bed like she usually did, she carefully sat down on the chair next to him, wincing slightly as she sat.

"Ror, are you okay?" Jess asked, his brows crinkling in concern.

"Yeah. I'm fine," she replied, forcing a fake cheeriness into her voice.

"Rory, look at me," Jess demanded, knowing that something was horribly wrong. She never was that great of a liar.

Rory hesitated, keeping her eyes trained on her scuffed tennis shoes, before finally lifting her head to look at him. Jess's chocolate eyes widened in surprise before turning to slits.

"Who the hell did that to you?" He spat out, looking as if he was ready to take on anyone.

"It's nothing, really. Don't worry about it," Rory said softly, self-consciously running her fingers over the large dark bruise marring her pale skin.

"Logan did that, didn't he?" When she said nothing, Jess continued, "Dammit, Rory! He did that DIDN'T HE?"

"YES! Okay? Yes he did it. He doesn't want me seeing you anymore and he did it. Are you happy now?"

"Oh Rory. Why are you still with him?"

"It was the first time, Jess. Just please...please don't make me talk about it," she begs him, staring down at her trembling hands.

"Please, Rory. Just...why are you still with him?" She can hear the pain in his voice and it has tears stinging her eyes. She stares up at him, a single tear drop trailing down her bruised cheek.

"I waited for you, but you never really came back," she whispered. Praying that he will understand her meaning. Jess just stares at her, chocolate brown burning within too-bright blue.

_v._

Lorelai hates being in the hospital. The smell of death and cleaning supplies is harsh on her nose, but Luke needs her. She gently squeezes his hand and gives him a small smile as they stand in front of Jess' hospital door.

"I'll be right here with you, Luke," Lorelai nodded reassuringly. Luke sighed and pushed the door open. The sight they were met with was almost too much for Lorelai to bear. The young, heart-stealing, misunderstood-is-my-middle-name boy she remembered was gone, replaced by someone completely different. His face was pale, a slight tinge of gray touching his sunken cheeks, and his collar bone was practically poking out of his skin visible through the thin hospital gown he wore. The messy tendrils of black hair were completely erased, smooth skin in it's place. She had to choke back the tears when Jess turned his head and smiled weakly at her and Luke.

"Hey," his gravely voice whispered.

"Hey, kid," Luke returned gruffly, settling himself in the chair beside Jess' bed. Lorelai, unsure of where to go, remained awkwardly in the doorway.

"Cancer isn't contagious, Lorelai," Jess said sarcastically, rolling his eyes in that familiar way of his. A weak laugh managed to escape the older woman's lips and she made her way over to Luke, sitting on the arm of his chair.

"Sorry I haven't been up to see you in awhile," Luke said, looking anywhere but at his sick nephew.

"It's alright. I know you're busy, Uncle Luke," Jess smirked, but the flash of pain in his eyes didn't go undetected by Lorelai.

"It's Luke. JUST Luke," Luke said, annoyed. The boy just laughed, a grin stretching his taut skin.

"Um, Luke?" Jess asked, suddenly serious.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I could talk to Lorelai for a sec. Alone."

Lorelai felt her lungs constrict and her eyes dart around the room wildly for a moment. She had no idea why he wanted to speak with her, but for some reason she was sure she wouldn't want to know.

"Uh, okay. I'll just go try to find some coffee or something," Luke replied awkwardly, shooting a curious glance between his fiance and his nephew.

Lorelai forced a fake grin on her face and turned to Jess, "So, wanted to get him out of the room before you murdered me? I always knew it would happen one day."

"You're hilarious," Jess returned dryly.

"So, what's up?"

"I just, I guess I wanted to apologize to you. I know I did some pretty shitty things and I want you to know that I truly am sorry, Lorelai. I guess, the only thing I can really say is that I was just a kid. One seriously messed-up kid," Jess said softly, each word spoken slowly as if it was painful for him to even speak.

"Water over the bridge, or under the bridge, whatever. I can be a little judgmental sometimes, I know that," Lorelai shrugged off his apology, extremely uncomfortable.

"You don't have to be nice to me just because I'm dying."

The horrified expression on Lorelai's face sent Jess into a fit of laughter and soon she was laughing with him. Later, when she was home by herself, Lorelai would cry over the same words and the look of defeat on Jess' face.

_vi._

"Do you believe in God?"

"Huh?"

"Do you, Jess?"

"I don't know," Jess replied, a confused expression on his face.

"I didn't before, but I think I do now," Rory said thoughtfully, tucking a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear.

"Why?"

"Because I have to believe that you'll be somewhere safe, nice. You never could find very much peace on Earth, maybe you'll find it in Heaven."

"If there is a God, I'll probably go to Hell," Jess snorted, barely containing the chuckle that threatened to bubble over. Rory glared at her ex-boyfriend, softly patting him on the head.

"No. Not you. You're the best person I know," Rory said softly.

"Liar."

"No. For once I'm telling the truth."

"Since when do you not, Rory?"

"Since the day you walked into my life," came her whispered reply.

"Well, I turned a saint into a sinner. If that doesn't condemn me to Hell, I don't know what will," Jess smirked at her, trying to get a smile on her sad face.

"Will you watch over me?" The broken brunette asked, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.

"Always, Rory. Always."

_vii._

"Mom?"

"In the living room offspring!" Lorelai called out.

Rory slowly made her way through the kitchen, her gray duffel bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder, and towards the living room. Tears threatened to spill over, but she managed to choke them back down.

"Hey mom," Rory said softly, letting her bag drop to floor at her feet.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" Lorelai asked instantly.

Rory carefully lifted her shirt to reveal a large black and blue mark on her otherwise white stomach, "Is my room still free?"

"Did Logan..."

"Yeah."

"Oh baby, of course your room's free," Lorelai whispered, getting up the from the couch and gently putting her arms around her daughter.

Rory buried her face into her mother's hair and cried.

_viii._

"Paris wanted me to tell she says hi," Rory says softly, gently tucking the covers closer around Jess. He's getting worse, but neither talk of it.

"Man, it's been years since I've seen her. How is she?"

"She's good. Same old Paris," Rory laughed.

"Good. Tell her I say hi when you see her next," Jess replied, a coughing fit quickly following his words. Rory quickly grabbed the cup of water on the table beside him and held it to his dry, cracked lips. She watched as a trickle of water fell from the side of his mouth, laced slightly with red. She smiled to hide the tears and wiped the water away. A moment of silence passed before Jess finally turned to her with a question in his dark eyes.

"Why are you here, Rory?"

"I'm visiting you," the brunette stared down at him strangely, carefully avoiding what he's really asking her.

"C'mon, Ror. You know what I mean."

"If you don't want me here then just tell me, Jess."

"It's not that, Rory, and you know it," he fixes her with a hard glare, not allowing her to evade him.

"When I was eight I met a little boy with messy dark hair and even darker eyes. He was in town for the weekend visiting his uncle and he and his mother were staying at the inn. I found him outside sitting beneath a tree reading a book and, being me, I just had to know what he was reading. We spent the rest of the day together, reading together, talking, whatever. That night I cried myself to sleep because I didn't think I'd ever see him again."

Jess stared at her, realization dawning on his features. Rory only paused for a moment and then continued on, "Eight years later he wanders into my bedroom. He didn't recognize me though. I mean, really should I have expected him to? So I never said a word about it and it seemed easier that way, anyhow. No one really liked this boy, except me, but I had a boyfriend so it didn't matter. Then something happened and the boy had to leave again. This time I chased after him. I couldn't stand the thought of going another nine years without seeing him.

"We spent the day together and then I returned home. Not long after that he returned. Not immediately, but soon, we started dating and I didn't think anything could tear us apart again. I never told him, but I fell in love with him. He was everything I ever wanted, but I don't think he could see that. He left again and this time I was broken hearted. For months I cried over him and waited for him to call, but he never did. I missed him so much that it physically hurt me. But then he came back and all I could think about was all the pain he had caused me. We kept running into each other and every time he ran from me, but the last time I ran from him. When he finally caught up to me he told me he loved me and then he left.

"He came back two more times, leaving each time, never saying goodbye. That was the thing that always puzzled me and I think hurt me the most, he never said goodbye. It wasn't until the last time I saw him that I think I understood why he never said it. I was the one who came to him and I was the one who did the leaving. I didn't say goodbye," a tear slid down her pale cheek as she looked to Jess for some sort of understanding. He reached out and placed his hand in hers. She could see him trying desperately to keep the tears from falling and failing miserably.

"It's too hard to say goodbye. Goodbye means forever and I don't think I could go forever without you," Rory whispered out. She lay her head down on his chest and listened to the soft beating of his heart.

"Don't worry, Rory, I'll never say goodbye," Jess said softly, running his thin fingers through her silky hair.


	14. 22 8 Miles

Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls or any of the characters involved with it.

Author's Note: WARNING: Definetly NOT my best work. Re-write of the episode where Jess asks Rory to run away from him. (I can't remember the name of the episode, lol.) I will have Last Wish Part 2 posted within the next week. I have it done, but I'm not very happy with how it turned out so I'm picking at it before I post it.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" There was fear in her voice and it unnerved him slightly, but he continued towards her. 

"I need to talk to you," it came out urgently, rushed.

"Jess," Dean cut in, but Jess ignored him and turned back to Rory.

"I need to talk to you," he repeated his words.

"What's going on here?" Dean questioned, trying forever to be Rory's savior.

"What are you doing here?" This time he heard pain and it hammered at his heart.

"Rory?"

"Go, go. Go home," she sighed, running a hand through short brown hair.

"No," Dean insisted, now looking irritated.

"Yes. Go, you should go," she continued to say.

Dean finally stalked off, anger evident on his face, but it went unnoticed by both Rory and Jess.

"Why won't you leave me alone? You won't go away!"

"Rory..."

"What do you want?"

"I don't know, I just...wanted to see you, talk to you...just..." He'd had the words. The whole car ride here he'd thought about exactly what he would say to her, but now his throat was closing in on him and he had no idea what he was doing.

"What?"

"Come with me."

He didn't even think as he said it.

"What?" She turned her face away, the look in her eyes was of complete bewilderment.

"Come with me," he repeats, strengthened by the fact that she didn't say no right away.

"Where?"

"I don't know where. Away."

"Are you crazy?" Her brown eyes are searching his for answers.

"Probably. Do it. Come with me. Don't think about it!"

"I can't do that," she spits out, turning away and going into her dorm room.

"You don't think you can do it, but you can. You can do whatever you want!"

"It's not what I want!"

"It is! I know you!"

"You don't know me!" She yells back, a knife stabbing into his heart, but he doesn't let it deter him. He reaches out for her, holding on to her arms, any part of her he can.

"Look, we'll go to New York. We'll work, we'll live together, we'll be together. It's what I want, it's what you want too!"

"No!" He can see she's on the verge of tears, but he can't seem to stop the words that are flowing from his lips.

"I wanna be with you, but not here, not this place. Not Star's Hollow. We have to start new!" The book said you had to start new. He needed to believe this would work.

"There's nothing to start!"

"But...you're packed. Your stuff is all in boxes," he was grasping at straws and he knew it, "It's perfect. You're ready and I'm ready. I am ready for this! You can count on me now. I know you couldn't count on me before, but you can now. You can!"

"No," he can hear her resolve beginning to falter and reaches out for her again, taking hold of her hands.

"Look, you know we're supposed to be together! I knew the first time I saw you nearly two years ago! And you know it, too! I know you do!"

"No, no, no, no, no," she's shaking her head back and forth as if that will make him disappear.

"Don't say no just to make me stop talking or make me go away. Only say no if you really don't want to be with me," he stares up at her with desperate mocha eyes, begging her for another chance.

"NO!"

He searches her too bright blue eyes, looking for another answer, knowing that's the only one he'll get. With a nod of his head, he squeezes her hand once within his and then turns to walk away. She stands there, staring at the back of his leather jacket, vision blurred from the tears that she refuses to let fall.

"22.8 miles," she whispers.

He stops, his breath caught in his throat at the words that enter his ears.

"What?"

"You looked it up, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," he says softly, slowly turning around to face her again.

"I thought things were going to be better after that day, but it only fell apart more."

"Rory..."

"How do I know you'll still be there by the time we get to the parking lot?" She asks, the tears she'd tried so desperately to hold back now falling down her face.

"I'll still be there, Rory."

"Then why can't you just stay?" She finally meets his gaze, blue melting into brown.

"I..."

"If you know we're supposed to be together, why can't you stay?"

"Your mom hates me, Rory. That town hates me," he says desperately.

"Well then give them a reason not to! Come back with me. Please, Jess," she's the one begging him now.

"I dont..."

"If you meant any of what you said, you would stay! Don't leave me again. Prove to me that I can count on you now. You said I could, so prove it to me!"

He stares at her, thinking about what she's asking of him. Then slowly he steps towards her, keeping his eyes locked on her, he reaches out and tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"Okay. But don't say I didn't warn you when they tar and feather me," he whispers.

"Nah, they don't do that anymore. Now they might deviled egg your car," she giggles.

"I knew it was you. Your mother put you up to it, didn't she?"

"Surprisingly it was my idea."

"I knew there was a rebel inside of you," he says, before crushing his lips to hers.


	15. Without You

Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls.

* * *

You watch the smoke curl out of his mouth, transfixed by the peaceful look on his face. You remember when a scowl was permanently fixed upon his features and you wonder what happened to make it disappear. It's been a long time since you've seen him and you're not sure, even now, if you're ready to face him. You tentatively take a step forward, then two back. You're not sure what it is that's keeping you from crossing the street to talk to him, but whatever the reason you can't make yourself go to him. You think maybe you're ashamed. 

You reach for the tiny flask hidden inside your coat, raise it to your lips, and find it's empty. You don't remember drinking all of it, but then that's what alcohol does to you. Carelessly you let the flask fall to the pavement, not caring that it must have cost Logan quite a bit because it was Logan that gave it to you. You want no reminder of him, of that other life you slipped into, let change you. You yearn to be the girl you were years before, knowing you can never be her again. You watch as he throws the cigarette down on the ground, crushing it out with the toe of his sneaker. He glances up and his gaze rests on you and you know there's no avoiding him now. There's no turning back.

You make a split-second decision, thank God for liquid courage, and cross the street to where he stands openly staring into your eyes. You wonder what it is he's thinking, seeing you here and then he speaks and all thoughts leave your mind.

"Rory."

Just your name, that's all he says and tears start leaking from your eyes smearing the mascara you'd so carefully applied. He looks at you as if he'd been waiting for you, as if he knew you'd end up here tonight standing before him in front of his apartment building.

"Hey Dodger," you say, at a loss for anything else. You went over in your mind the whole cab ride here exactly what you would say and now the words won't come. You're suffocating, falling, falling and you're terrified he won't catch you.

"Want to come up?"

You just nod and let him guide you into his building and up the stairs. His apartment is small and messy. There are books strewn out over the coffee table, a few pens and notebooks scattered on a scratched up wooden table and an old lap top lying on the floor.

"So," he says, looking over to you expectantly, waiting for you to speak.

"Um."

Just tell him, you scream at yourself, but you find you can't speak. You find yourself crumbling to the floor, shaking with sobs that bring no tears and he's just standing there staring down at you with no idea of what to do.

"What happened to you?"

It's a loaded question and you stare up at him, turbulent blue melting within warm brown and you wonder for a moment when the two of you exchanged places. You wonder when he became the stable one and you became the mess. The answer to his question is simple, you've known it for years, but it will hurt him and you don't want to do that anymore. You've stopped wanting to bring him pain since the day he watched you, with eyes so sad it broke you heart, as you walked out of Truncheon.

"Rory, come on," he urges you on and before you even realize it the words are tumbling from your lips.

"The day you left, I changed."

He nods his head, understanding and acceptance in his eyes and you see the tinge of hurt as well. You wish you could take the words back, but you know you can't and so they hang there between the two of you like a barrier. Both you and he unwilling to break the silence.

He turns away and busies himself in the kitchen. You wonder what he's doing until the sweet, pungent aroma of coffee fills your nostrils and a sad smile finds it's way to your lips. It's been so long since you've tasted his coffee. And suddenly memories are flitting in and our of your mind: interlaced fingers, Howl, Dodger, ice cream in cones, and the feel of his lips on yours. You're talking without really thinking, words spilling from your lips, words you'd promised yourself you'd never say.

"I realized how stupid I was the day you left, letting myself fall for you. You were this big animal caged in a small town and a part of me knew you'd leave one day, but I tricked myself into believing I would be enough. But I wasn't and you left me. I'm nothing special, just a small town girl who's easy to forget. When you came back I started to think maybe it was for me, but then you kept running. You kept running," your voice turns into a whisper and you stare up at him looking for anything, any flicker of emotion, but his face is stony.

"Then you say you love me and run away again. I convinced myself I heard wrong, made myself believe it, because accepting that you'd said it was too hard. It was too much and it hurt. Then you come back again asking me to run away with you. I didn't...I wanted to. But I wanted to hurt you more. You'd hurt me so bad and I thought here's my chance. So I said no and I said I didn't care about you and that you didn't know me. When I saw the pained expression on your face I was so happy and so sad all at the same time. I slept with Dean the next week," you stop, gaging his reaction. His eyes widen for a moment and you can see a flash of disappointment before the emotionless mask is back in place.

"I changed, Jess. I changed because I had to. If I'd stayed that innocent, naive, small-town girl I'd just keep getting hurt. I didn't want to hurt anymore and I didn't want to think about you anymore, so I pushed it all to the back of mind and I let myself become someone else. I let myself become the kind of girl I hate. I don't want to hate myself anymore. Please," you're begging him for something, but you're not sure what it is. He says nothing for a moment, just stands there with his arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall.

"I can't save you this time Rory," he says it gently, but his words stab you anyways. He keeps talking, but the words are floating around you, not quite entering your ears and you think maybe this is what it's like to drown. You head is below the water and no one is reaching down to pull you out, he's just staring at you watching you drown and telling you why he has to let you.

And suddenly you're pushing yourself out of the water, a fake smile plastered on your face. You're walking over to him and giving him a small hug then stepping back. You're heart is breaking inside your chest and you don't think you'll ever recover from this one, but there's no sign of that on your face as you tell him you don't need saving.

He's staring at you with an expression on his face that leaves you unable to interpret his thoughts, but you think maybe that's just as well. You flash him one last brilliant smile before letting yourself out of his apartment, closing the door with a soft click. The smile disappears instantly and you're drowning again.

You'll always be drowning without him by your side.


	16. Untitled

Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls

Author's Note: I found this on my computer. Just something I wrote after seeing the episode with Jess and his book. Thought I'd put up. Hope you guys enjoy :)

* * *

Her hair is short, so much shorter than the last time he saw her. He thinks it makes her look younger, especially right now when she's pouting her bottom lip without even realizing it. He starts to believe that maybe this time could be different as he blurts out the three words he has always been so careful not to say. 

She simply stares at him.

He walks away.

The next time he sees her, he thinks she's getting too thin. Maybe it's the stress of college or maybe she hasn't had quite as many movies nights recently, but he can see the harsh lines of her collar bone protruding through her thin shirt. His words come out too fast, a jumbled mess of nouns and verbs. Only one word dominating all the rest.

Run, run, run.

He knows she won't...can't.

One last no and his heart cracks, echoing against the walls of her too-white dorm room, as he turns and walks away from her yet again.

His car breaks down in a small town in Ohio. He's stuck there for over two months working to earn the money so he can fix his car. He meets a girl in a bar and takes her back to his crappy hotel room. Her hair is too blond and her eyes too brown, but as he pumps into her, he closes his eyes and all he sees is blue.

She's gone before he wakes up in the morning.

He leaves the same day.

He visits his Uncle Luke after stopping to see his mom. He tells no one, but the words he'd been jotting down on different scraps of paper and bits of napkin in dank cafes are slowly coming together to form a shitty novel. He words on it relentlessly now, needing to finish it. He doesn't know why, but he has the feeling that if he finishes the book he'll get her back.

He sees her from the upstairs apartment window at Luke's. She's walking down the street, holding the hand of some blond guy. She's smiling, but it doesn't fool him. There's sorrow behind her smile.

It takes everything he has not to go running down the stairs to greet her. Instead, he pulls out his notebook and continues writing.

He finishes the novel three days later.

Was she ever this beautiful? He's sitting across from her, trying so hard not to stare, discussing his book with her. He needed her to see it, needed it so bad. See, he's saying, see I did make something of myself. It's not much, but it's something. Do you see? He knows that she sees. He knows that she has always believed.

She isn't the girl he knew, he can see that right away. Yet, he still loves her. He still carries a small flicker of hope that now they can make it work.

When the blond guy shows up the next day, he thinks he should have known.

Disappointment has always been his best friend.


	17. Home Again

**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not own Gilmore Girls or any of the characters affiliated with it._

_**Author's Note: **Hey guys! I know it's been a looooong time since I've posted anything. I've been so busy with school and work that I barely have time for anything AND my sister just had a baby, so I'm the proud aunt of a new niece :). Anyhow...I hope you all like this and feed back is greatly appreciated. _

* * *

She's living at home again. A year spent traveling the States, following a presidential candidate, had invigorated her. She'd spent the next year traveling Europe, writing articles for the Chicago Tribune. Her small articles barely got her noticed and even she could tell that the words were cold and detached. At twenty-four she was finally coming to realize that maybe traveling wasn't her calling. She loved each new city, each new face, but none of it compared to a small town with quirky people that knew everything about her. She came back, unannounced; not at all surprised when she saw that her room had been transformed back to the way it had been in high school. Her mother asked no questions, and she gave no answers.

She got a job at the Hartford Gazette; writing for the editorials section. When her mom and Luke got married she moved into the small apartment over the diner and made it her own. She loved her work and she loved her life, but she felt something missing. There was a hole inside of her that seemed to keep getting bigger and bigger, but she could never quit pinpoint what it was. Then came the day when her mom, on a crazy whim, decided to do some spring cleaning.

She got a phone call at five in the morning, a chipper Lorelai on the other end telling her to get her "cute butt over here to do some cleaning". Mother and daughter went through the attic together, organizing and throwing away, riffling through old memories. They made it through the basement and her old room before they came to the hall closet. She'd almost forgotten about the boxes that rested in that old closet. A look from her mother, a nod, and half a minute later she was reaching inside and pulling out the box on top.

It was just a small shoe box, plain and unadorned. She lifted the top to find a movie ticket, a bar tab, a few programs from events they'd gone to and a slim silver bracelet. There wasn't much to her relationship with Logan and she wondered why it had taken her so long to finally realize that. She replaced the lid and put the box aside, ready to move on to the next one. She glanced briefly at her mother who was rifling through her own set of boxes.

The next box she took out was old and worn, plain cardboard held together with a lot of packing tape. This one had been put away years before, taken out again, and put back. Her Dean box held an old dress her mother had made, a home-made bracelet, some movie tickets, the only letter she'd never sent him from when she was in Washington D.C., and a tiara. She smiled softly, able to take the good with the bad when it came to her first, and third, boyfriend.

She sighed, as she slid the box away from her and reached for the last one. This box was larger than the other two and far more worn. This one had been opened and re-opened a thousand times, late at night when she hadn't been able to hide from the memories that haunted her. She gingerly lifted a few books out, leafing through the pages, as tears gathered in her eyes upon seeing his familiar scrawl. Her bridesmaid dress from Sookie's wedding came out next and she saw, from the corner of her eye, the questioning look her mother gave her.

"Our first kiss," was all she said as she carefully folded the dress back up.

Next an old Luke's carry-out menu was lifted out, a single line scrawled across the top: _Meet me at the bridge tonight at 10. I'll bring the food, you bring the books._

There was an old concert ticket, an invitation to Philadelphia, a book with a dedication no one else would understand _(22.8 miles, I wasn't bored)_, her old dorm key, a cast with his signature, an old Metallica t-shirt, and many more small, random things that no one else would understand. She didn't even realize she was crying until her mom began wiping the tears away with calloused hands.

That night she lay in bed, wearing his Metallica t-shirt, and reading his book. When she got to the end she noticed on the very back page something scrawled at the very bottom. _555-0521, Call anytime you need anything. _She stared at the numbers and letters, barely comprehending what she had not noticed before. A tear slid down her cheek, even as she reached for the phone on her night stand.

His voice was filled with sleep when he answered, but it was still just as she had remembered. She took a deep breath, unsure of what to say, and must have taken too long because now he was yelling into the phone about prank callers and telemarketers.

"Jess?"

At his name, he fell silent. She knew he knew it was her. She knew that no matter how many years would pass between them he would always know the exact tone of her voice, just as she would always know his.

"Rory?"

She said nothing, tears choking her.

"What is it? Is everything okay? Is Luke okay?"

"No, no. Luke's fine. Oh God, I'm so sorry."

And with that she hung up. She ignored the ringing of the phone immediately after and proceeded to unplug her phone.

A week passed, a week of going through the motions and pasting on fake smiles, before she tried calling him again. It was late again, just past two in the morning, and she briefly wondered about her chosen time of contacting him. This time when he answered he knew it was her right away.

She listened to his breathing for a few minutes, before hanging up without saying a word.

The next day she bought a Star's Hollow postcard. In her careful handwriting she wrote: _I should have said yes._

She didn't call him anymore. She went to work and spent time with her mom and Lane. For two months she did her best to force him out of her mind, until she'd convinced herself that she didn't really care for him anymore, that she'd only imagined she had. Finally after she was finally able to go a whole day without thinking of him, she received a post card in the mail. The front was a picture of the Liberty Bell and she knew immediately it was from him. She flipped it over and read: _I should have stayed. But it is what it is. __You.__ Me. _

She silently started weeping, the confirmation that she'd lost him in her small hand. That night she started writing, for the first time in so long, something of substance, something with feeling. She didn't stop until four in the morning and when she did she fell into bed, exhaustion overtaking her.

It took her a year of late nights and writer's block, but she finally had a rough draft written and ready to send to a publishing company. She carefully slid the pages into a large manila envelope and sent it out, the dedication page on top.

When he received it he stared down at the return address from a few minutes before he finally opened it. His hands began to shake when he read her dedication: _Ice cream is always better in cones._

Her book was published through his company, but she never dealt with him. He passed her off to his friend Matt and the book became a small success. A year went by and she was dating a man she worked with. Dan was five years her senior and a good man. She knew she would never love him, but she was so tired of being alone. She had just gotten home from a date with Dan when she saw the small package outside her door. She absently tore the paper open and smiled sadly when she stared down at the cover of a brand new book. She flipped to the dedication page right away; the book fell from her hands when she read: _I'm coming home._

She called Dan immediately and told him she could no longer see him.

The next day when Jess was sitting outside her door when she got home from work, all she could do was stare at him and cry. His hair was shorter than the last time she'd seen him and he had filled out a little more. His eyes were the same, dark and questioning. She simply stepped forward and fell into his arms.

"Never leave me again," she whispered softly, clutching at him as if he would disappear at any moment.

"I promise."


	18. In Dreams

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gilmore Girls or any of the characters affiliated with it. One can dream though..._

_**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for all the reviews! I promise I'm going to try not to go so long without posting anything again. Hope you guys like this one, it took me awhile to perfect it to the point where I was happy with it. Reviews are love :)_

* * *

_**In Dreams** _

He spends his days in a routine. He goes to the diner down the street for coffee and breakfast in the morning, reading whatever book he's grabbed off the shelf on his way out. Occasionally he jots down a new note in the margin, but most of the time he thinks he's written all there is to say. Afterwards he walks back to Truncheon and works. He does filing, sifts through the work of young writers hoping to make it in the world of literature, makes calls and does his best not to think of her. After work he'll occasionally go out for drinks with his friends, but most of the time he goes to his small apartment and writes.

He writes about small towns with prying eyes, big cities filled with lonely hearts, but most of all he writes about her. He writes of clear blue eyes that resemble the ocean, milky white skin that feels like satin, thick dark hair that he loved to entangle his fingers in, and he writes about the way she used to love him. He writes her the way she used to be, not this imposter that has taken over her body. He knows she's in there somewhere, hiding like a scared little girl just waiting for someone to hold out their hand and help her into the light, but he's not sure what it will take to do that. He's not sure he could be the one to save her, even if he tried.

At the age of twenty-seven he's had five novels published, each dedicated to her. He likes to think she reads them, jotting down her own thoughts in the margins as she wonders about who he has become. He likes to believe that some part of her inside still loves him, even though he knows it is only a fool's dream.

She spends her days never knowing where she might end up. Each day is a new adventure, a new city, a new country. Each day she is losing herself a little more. She has become hardened over the years, seeing the things she has seen as an overseas correspondent. When at one time tears would have came to her eyes at the sight of a starving child or a war-torn city, now she only writes in her little notebook, surveying the scene with eyes of glass and a heart of stone. She spends each day surrounded by people, but more alone than she's ever been in her life.

At night after she's already called her mother and worked on her latest piece, she allows herself to think of him. She reads his books and sees herself in them. She sees herself as he once saw her and wishes that she could be that girl again. She wonders how different things would have been if she had gone with him that night at Yale. She wonders if they would still be together or if they would have only hurt each other yet again. She thinks it must be some sort of messed up dance they keep doing, each time one turning from the other, each time another piece of her heart torn away.

At night when they are both asleep, they dream of each other. She dreams of what once was, a young girl with big dreams and troubled boy who sees only today. She dreams they are sitting on the bridge, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as they stare up at the starry sky. He speaks of Hemmingway and Kerouac and the here and now, she speaks of problems in far away countries and journalism and the promise of tomorrow. He dreams of what could have been, a girl ruined by circumstance and boy who found the strength he never knew he had. He saves her from herself and she finds the girl she once was still hidden inside of her. She is a journalist in Philly and he writes and works at Truncheon, they are married and have children.

But in the morning they are only dreams and each goes on believing the other has long forgotten the love they once shared.


	19. In the Rain

_**Disclaimer: **I own nothing._

* * *

She's been sitting on the curb next to her car for over an hour now. The rain that started shortly after she arrived in Philly is now coming down in thick sheets, soaking her clothes, but she doesn't care. The rain mixes with her tears leaving a salty taste on her lips as she stares at the door to Truncheon. She told him she loved Logan, she tore his heart out once again and she knows she should leave, but she can't. She's lied to him again, lied to the only one who's ever truly known her and she still can't figure out why.

He was her shortest relationship, the one that from the outside would seem to be the most meaningless, but she knows the truth. She knows that he is the only one that ever saw inside of her, the only one she ever let close enough to completely crush her. She changed when he left her, it was gradual, but she knows it was his leaving that set it off. She had vowed she would never let anyone do that to her again and maybe that's why she lied to him. She knows that he is still the only one that ever could.

She puts her head in her hands, tendrils of dark hair sticking to her face and neck, and wonders when she and Jess switched places. He had always been a mess of a boy, constantly running from anything that could make him happy, and she was the stable one. Now he is the one trying to save her, but she won't let herself stop running; she won't let herself accept happiness, too afraid it will be ripped away from her again. When she looks up again she sees him. He's locking up for the night, probably heading out to go celebrate with his friends. He hasn't spotted her yet and she knows she should get in her car before he does, but she doesn't move a muscle. When he turns his eyes find hers and she doesn't think she's ever seen him look so broken.

As he makes his way towards her a fresh set of tears pour down her face and she tries desperately to make them stop. She doesn't want him to see her crying; she doesn't want him to know that she lied to him.

"You're going to get sick sitting out here in this," he says shortly, staring down at her with questions in his eyes. She knows she must look horrible, black mascara running down her face, eyes red from crying and clothes wet with rain sticking to her small frame.

"Maybe," she says, looking away from his penetrating stare.

"What are you still doing here, Rory?" She doesn't answer him, just shrugs and then wraps her arms around herself, trying to shield her body from the cold.

He sits down next to her and sighs, his shoulders slumping forward as he does so. He is staring down at the pavement, so she risks sneaking a look at him and wonders how it is that she could crush him again. She knows that years ago when he'd asked her to run away from him, she wanted only to hurt him, but now…now she wishes she could take it all back.

"I never meant to hurt you," she whispers, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

"We never do, do we? But somehow we always end up hurting each other. Somehow whenever we meet it only ends in tears."

"I wish it wasn't like that," she says so softly he barely hears it.

"You should go," he says, the first edge of bitterness lacing through his words.

"I keep telling myself that, yet here I am."

He doesn't say anything back to her and she thinks he's going to leave her there, but he doesn't. He simply sits next to her in the rain, staring off into the dark night.

"Does he treat you well?" Jess finally asks, not daring to look at her.

"Sometimes," she answers.

"You told me you fixed everything," it was a statement, not question, and it has her heart breaking a little more. She had known what he meant when he'd asked her and she let him believe that she'd left Logan.

"You don't even know me anymore, Jess."

"Do you even know yourself?" He returns, anger shining through his words, and she sees a glimpse of the boy he used to be. She shakes her head and tries not to let the tears spill down her face.

"What happened to her? What happened to the girl I used to know?" She knows he isn't really asking her, just pondering out loud. She knows he deserves an answer, but it will hurt him and she desperately doesn't want to hurt him anymore.

When she doesn't answer him, he stands. He stares down at her, sadness etched in his features and slowly shakes his head.

"Leave me alone, Rory. Just…just leave me alone. I don't think I can take anymore and I'm so damn tired of waiting for you to wake up. I'm just so tired," he says softly, his eyes pleading with her to go.

"Okay," and she stands from the curb, turning to leave. Before she does, she turns back to him and softly presses her lips to his.

"I'm proud of you, for your book. It was great," she says before getting in her car, without a backwards glance. As she drives away she keeps her eyes glued to the road in front of her, not daring even a glance in the rearview mirror. If she had looked back, she would have seen him staring after her, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, a lone tear trailing down his cheek.


	20. Eternal Slumber

He's never felt so tired in his whole life; tired of picking up his drunken mother at grungy bars; tired of nameless, faceless "new dads" who leave his mother bruised and broken on the kitchen floor. He's just so damn tired of it all. He can't remember the last time he slept a full night's sleep, or the last time he went out with friends without worrying about getting a phone call telling him Liz was in the hospital again. He's sick of reading books alone in his room as he listens to the neighbors yelling and Liz and the "man of the hour" geting drunk in the next room.

He stares down at the pills in his hand and thinks it must be the only way out. Liz won't have to deal with having a teenage son anymore. He won't have to deal with Liz anymore. He starts to take the pills, one by one, throwing them down with vodka. He figures if he's going to kill himself he might as well be drunk while he does it.

The phone rings on the stand beside his bed, but he ignores it until Liz screams at him to answer. He realizes that he'd like to talk to someone, anyone before he falls into the peacefulness of death, so he reaches out and lifts the phone to his ear.

It's Luke and he wishes it wasn't because Luke is the one person that could make him feel guilty about this. Although the last time he saw Luke he was about five years old and his uncle only calls a couple times a year, he still always wondered what it would be like if he was around more. He makes small talk, when the guilt begins to seep in, he reminds himself that Luke never cared enough to come see him or ask him how he's able to deal with Liz.

He ends up hanging up the phone while Luke is in mid-sentence, wanting nothing more than to get this over with. He empties the rest of the bottle down his throat and waits for sleep to overtake him. His lids get heavy and he begins to sink back into the bed, thinking of Hemmingway and Liz and the fact that he's never even had a real girlfriend.

He doesn't hear Liz's screams when she finds her son slumped over in bed, an empty bottle of aspirin beside him. He doesn't hear the sirens of the ambulance coming to take him to the hospital, nor does he hear the nurse at the hospital wondering out loud about why a young boy would try to kill himself. He's surrounded by darkness and a sense of peace he's never felt before, until he's ripped from it by the beeping of the monitor and Liz's sobs the next day.

When she tells him she's sending him to live with Luke he isn't surprised. He almost wonders what took her so long to pawn him off on someone else.

He thinks that maybe his life will be a little better now, but doesn't dare let himself hope.


	21. Free Bird

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gilmore Girls or Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd_

_**Author's note: **Takes place on the bus ride when Jess is leaving for California, but it goes different than on the show. Pretty sure it kinda sucks, but it happens. Let me know what ya'll think.  
_

* * *

_If I leave here tomorrow__,  
would you still remember me?__  
For I must be traveling on, now,__  
cause there's too many places I've got to see.  
__But, if I stayed here with you, girl,__  
Things just couldn't be the same.__  
Cause I'm as free as a bird now  
__And this bird you cannot change.__  
Lord knows, I can't change._

"Hey," she says softly, sitting beside me on the bus. I try desperately to hide the duffel beside me, but as her eyes travel to where it rests, I know it's a losing battle.

"Hey," I say back, pretending she hasn't seen it. She's trying to hold back tears, and a part of me hates her for it.

"You're leaving?" She finally asks me after a moment of silence, staring down at her tightly interlocked fingers.

I just shrug, as I look out the window, not daring to let myself look into her eyes. I know she could make me stay, but if I did, things would never be the same. I'd always be wondering what else is out there. I'd always be wondering about the places I could be going. And I know she'd be wondering if I'd rather be somewhere else.

"Were you going to tell me?"

I look at her then, just in time to see the first tear trickle down her pale cheek. She isn't even trying to hide that she's crying and my heart cracks a little at the sight of her.

"No," I say it coldly, knowing that if I soften now, I'll never leave this freak show of a town. She nods, biting her bottom lip, as more tears pour down her face. Against my better judgment, I reach out and gently wipe away a tear, but she jumps back from me as if I've burned her. My hand drops down to my lap and I sigh softly.

"I always knew you would leave," she says so quietly I almost don't hear her.

"I never meant to hurt you," I say honestly. She doesn't deserve this; I know she doesn't, but I can't change who I am.

"Will you come back?" She asks, ignoring my statement.

"I don't know, Rory."

"Where are you going?"

"Rory…"

"Just…please Jess, where are you going?" She's managed to stop the flow of tears and I can almost see the concrete wall she's placing between us.

"California," what's the point in lying to her? After everything, she at least deserves to know.

"Is it…is it because of the other night? Is it because I wouldn't…" she trails off, unable to actually say the words.

"Shit, Rory. No. How could you even think that?" She starts crying again, hearing the tinge of hurt and anger in my voice.

"What am I supposed to think?" She asks me, forlornly. God, at this moment I want nothing more than to take her in my arms and tell her that it's going to be okay. I want to tell her that I'll never leave her, but we would both know it's a lie.

"Just take my word for it that this has nothing to do with you. None of this is your fault," I say gently, not wanting to hurt her anymore. I wish we were at her stop already, I don't think I can take much more of this.

"I'm sorry," is all she can manage to say as sobs begin to overtake her. I just sit by and watch, helplessly, as my girlfriend's, ex-girlfriend's, shoulders shake with sorrow.

"Rory," I say, pleading with her to stop. Doesn't she know how much she's hurting me right now, but I know I deserve it.

"Why am I not enough?" She whispers it and I know she isn't asking me. She's asking herself and I think I understand that she isn't just questioning why she isn't enough for me. She's questioning why she wasn't enough for her dad to stick around, why all the men in her life seem to leave.

The next thing I know the bus is slowly coming to a stop and I recognize it as her stop, but she doesn't move from her seat. She wraps her arms around her shaking form and just sobs harder.

"You have to go to school, Rory," I say softly, but I don't think she hears me because she just stares straight ahead of her. The bus starts moving again and I sigh in frustration. Why won't she just let me leave in peace?

"I know I'm not making this easy on you, but I don't care. I know I can't stop you from leaving, but I need to spend more time with you. I just, I just need…" she breaks off and lays her head in my lap, letting her tears soak into my faded jeans. I have no idea what to do, so I just stroke her hair until I hear her breathing begin to even out and I realize she's fallen asleep.

An hour goes by before the bus finally comes to the end of the line. I gently lift her head, placing an old sweatshirt of mine beneath her. I crouch down and softly kiss her forehead, the regret of leaving her already seeping its way into my heart, but I know this is something I have to do.

"I love you," I whisper softly, as I lift my duffel bag over my shoulder and start walking off the bus.

"Will you call me?" I hear her gentle voice question me. I look back at her, taking in her disheveled dark hair and red-rimmed eyes, her arms wrapped tightly around my old sweatshirt. She looks so beautiful in this moment, her sad blue eyes asking me questions that I can't possibly answer.

"I'll call you," I say, knowing that this time it's the truth. I don't know when, but this is a promise I won't break.

I turn around and get off the bus, knowing I'm doing the right thing, but I also realize in that same instant that I'm leaving my heart back in a small town with her.

_Bye, bye, it's been a sweet love.__  
Though this feeling I can't change.__  
But please don't take it badly__  
cause lord knows I'm to blame.__  
But, if I stayed here with you girl__  
Things just couldn't be the same.__  
Cause I'm as free as a bird now__  
And this bird you'll never change.  
__And this bird you cannot change.__  
Lord knows, I can't change.  
__Lord help me, I can't change._


	22. Mom

**_Disclaimer:_** I do not own Gilmore Girls

**_Author's Note_**: _An alternate reason for Jess ending up in the Hollow than Eternal Slumber. I can't believe how much I've been writing lately, lol. I just can't seem to stop the flow of ideas in my head. Reviews are love!_

* * *

He watches from the doorway of his room as his mother weeps. He is only four years old and he doesn't understand why she's crying; he only wants it to stop. He turns around and searches his room for the object that always cheers him up. A smile makes it's way onto his face when he finds his favorite Dr. Seuss book. His little legs run out into the living room where his mother is curled up crying on the couch. 

"Mommy, look what I got for you," Jess states proudly holding the book out to her. He expects her to smile at him and pull him up into her lap. Instead she slaps the book away and takes a drink from the big glass bottle beside her.

"Go to your room and stay there! You're the reason I don't have nobody!"

He runs into his room as fast as his small legs will carry him, clutching the beloved book to his chest as tightly as he can. The little boy burrows into his bed, jamming his thumb in his mouth and trying with all his might to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. He doesn't understand why his mommy doesn't love him. He doesn't understand why he can't be enough for her.

* * *

He hears the screams coming from the next room. He tries desperately to get lost in his book, waiting for the relief of leaving this world behind and entering the world of Hemmingway. He hears the loud slap of skin on skin and knows his mom's new boyfriend is hitting her. He lies down on his bed, staring at the jumbled mess of words on the page of his book. He can't concentrate enough to read and angrily throws the book at his wall. 

He can clearly hear the words, "whore" "slut" "bratty kid" "bitch" and the list goes on endlessly. He burrows himself in his power rangers blankets, covering his ears with his pillow. He doesn't want to listen anymore. He doesn't want to know what's happening only a few feet away from him. He wishes he could go out and save her, but he knows he can't. Even if he could, she'd only find another one just like this one.

He hears the slam of a door and crawls out from under his covers. He softly tip toes out into the living room where his mother is lying in a heap on the floor. The new boyfriend is nowhere to be found and Jess visibly relaxes. He walks over to the kitchen and grabs a clean wash cloth. He turns on the faucet, making sure the water is warm before he wets the cloth in his small hands.

"Mom?" He questions softly as he kneels down beside her.

"Oh baby," she whispers, lifting her head to look into the sad eyes of her little boy.

"I'm here, mom. I'll take care of you," he sighs as he lifts the wet cloth to her face, gently wiping the blood from her lips.

"You're only ten, but you act so much older," Liz says, sadly. Jess says nothing, just continues to clean his mother's wounds.

* * *

Most nights he loses himself in the world of Tolstoy, Hemmingway, Dickens or various other authors of the books he loves so much. He wanders around the city sometimes until he finds a quiet place to read. It's been a long time since he stayed at home, hiding afraid in his room. He's an angry fourteen year old now, bitter at the world for the cards he'd been dealt. He parties sometimes, staying out until the sun begins to shine again and then he sneaks up the fire escape into the crappy apartment he shares with his mother. 

He doesn't go to her until he knows she's already passed out. Only then does he carefully survey her, always looking for new injuries. Most nights he ends up with a wet cloth in his hand, wiping away dried blood. He sits beside her and holds ice packs to her various bruises so they won't swell the next day. When she's awake he ignores her. He's learned to guard his emotions well and he vowed long ago that he wouldn't let her see the hurt she causes him. He only lets her see the anger.

* * *

He's seventeen when he finally gets caught stealing. The police call his mother, informing her that she needs to come down to the station to bail her son out of jail. He knows that she'll be drunk and that he'll end up staying in this cement box until she finally realizes he hasn't come home. He wonders how long it'll take her to come get him. He laughs bitterly when he realizes it could be days. 

She finally comes on the fifth day, by which time the police officer that's been watching over him has switched from staring at him with disdain, to staring at him with pity. She's yelling at him as soon as they get home, taking long gulps from the bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand as she does so. He doesn't say a word when she asks him what the hell he was thinking, just smirks at her in a way that he knows infuriates her.

"Fine, you want to act this way, I'm done," she screeches out after getting only silence from him.

"Good, I've been done with you for a long time," he shoots back at her, arms crossed defensively across his chest. She turns away from him and grabs the phone. He stands there watching her as she dials.

"Luke?"

His eyes widen in surprise as he hears his uncle's name on his mom's lips. He can't figure out why on earth his mom would be calling her big brother.

"I need you to take Jess..." She's still talking, but he can't hear the rest of what she's saying over the buzz in his ears. She's finally giving him away to someone else. He didn't know why it surprised him or why his chest was suddenly hurting so bad. He stared down at his shoes, feeling like a lost little boy for the first time in so long. A lost little boy who just needed his mother, but she's no where to be found.

He's broken from his thoughts by the cold words of his mom, "You're going to live with your uncle in Star's Hollow. Maybe he can straighten you out."

"Whatever," he says bitterly as he walks into his room. He pretends his heart isn't breaking inside his chest as he starts tossing some clothes and his favorite books into a large green duffel bag.


	23. Rory

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gilmore Girls._

_**Author's Note: **I've been on a major Jess kick lately, so I decided to do something from Rory's eyes. May seem a little ooc, but remember this is following her later on in life, so you never know. Anyways...reviews are much appreciated and thanks to everyone who's been reading :) _

* * *

You're living in Philly now. He hadn't really crossed your mind at all when you'd accepted the job offer. You didn't think of him when you told your mother and you only wondered at the strange look Luke gave you when he found out. It wasn't until you were settling into your new apartment, cardboard boxes scattered everywhere that you realized what you'd done. Your eyes fell on a tattered box in the corner, the name JESS written on it in black magic marker. Only then did you get the sick feeling in your stomach that made you question yourself. But you pushed it aside, pushed him aside, and concentrated on your new life. 

You go six months before you see him. You're sitting in a booth at a small coffee shop, trying to come up with ideas for your next piece when you catch a glimpse of unruly dark hair. You quickly look down at the laptop in front of you, letting your hair fall in a curtain across your face. You peek out to catch a glimpse of him and sigh in relief when you realize he hasn't noticed you. 

He's standing in line at the counter and you pray that he's getting his order to go because you know you're not ready to see him yet. That's when you see her. She standing behind him and you don't take notice of her right away, not until you see her reach out and place a hand on the small of his back. She's beautiful, long blonde hair falling to the middle of her back, bright green eyes and tanned skin. You watch as he glances over his shoulder at her and a smile paints itself on his features. He leans into her, placing a small kiss on her forehead and you wonder why it's suddenly gotten so difficult for you to breath. You can feel your heart breaking and immediately you start screaming at yourself "NO NO NO!" You were supposed to be over him a long time ago and it is killing you to find out that you aren't.

You quickly slam your laptop shut and gather your things together. You find that you no longer care if he sees you, as long as you get out of this place without having to talk to him, without having to look at THEM again. You walk briskly past, the exit your only goal, but you can't help yourself as you take one last look over your shoulder.

He's staring straight into your eyes when you look back. You see the questions in his dark orbs and his lips begin to form your name, but you quickly turn away and almost run out of the too-small coffee shop. You don't go back there again.

It's another six months before you see him again. This time he's standing in your doorway when you open the door. You can't believe he's here and you can't find the words to speak, so you simply stare at him. He's shuffling his feet and running a hand through his hair, and you can see he's nervous, but you can't imagine why. 

He starts talking. He starts asking you why you're here and couldn't you have gone somewhere else because you're ruining his life all over again and he just can't take it anymore. He goes on and on, but you're not really listening to the words because it all just hurts too damn much and 

you don't want to hear about how much pain you've put him through. He's put you through a lot of pain as well and just because it was a long time ago doesn't make it any less real. It doesn't make the scars he left go away. You don't even realize you're crying until he asks you to stop.

He's saying that you don't deserve to cry. You were the one who rejected him, dammit, and it isn't fair to make him feel this way again. You simply let out a tortured sob and slam the door in his face. You let yourself slide to the floor, curled into a tight ball, your tears falling on your too bright yellow dress. You hear a soft thump on the other side of the door and know that he is leaning against the door opposite you and you wish he would just go away, but he doesn't. 

You start talking, softly, not sure if he can actually hear you, but needing to get the words out. You tell him about saying no to Logan and about endless nights spent alone in cities unfamiliar and cold. You speak of reading his book until it's so worn and tattered that you're afraid to even touch it because it might fall apart in your hands, just like your relationship. It hurts you to keep talking, but you do anyways because you think maybe he deserves to know. You tell him that he broke you and you never seemed to fit the pieces back together again. You tell him that you still love him.

You hear him take a deep breath and then a shuffle of arms and feet. You hear his footsteps down the hall as he walks away from you again without a word. Your tears are like the rain and you fall asleep curled up by the door, waking in the morning with a sore neck and swollen eyes.

The next day when you leave for work, you find a scrap of paper taped to your door. The words, "I need to take care of something," scrawled in his handwriting. You remember those same words being spoken to you many years before and a sense of hope finds its way into your heart. You expect to hear from him that night, so you take the day off and find the perfect outfit to wear. You get your hair done and call your mother, although you don't tell her about him, she can tell that this is the first time you've been truly happy in so long a time. When you get home you wait for him, but he never comes. You think maybe he just needs more time, so you keep waiting. 

After a few weeks of waiting, you realize he isn't coming and his words were simply words. You fall deeper into the black abyss that had claimed you prior to his note and as the months pass without a word from him, you begin to grow numb. Your mother is worried about you, but you push her a side and your calls home grow fewer and far between. You find yourself getting lost in the depths of a glass bottle and when you get a new job offer you grasp at it as if your life depends on it, and maybe it does.

Your new job takes you all over the world. You see things that you wish you never had. You thought you'd known what pain was, but now you truly do. You have nameless faces crying out 

at you in your dreams and you wish you had someone to hold on to, but the one you want no longer wants you. The only escape you find is in the burning liquid that tears at your throat. 

You call him in the middle of the night, tears traveling down your face. He begs you to stop calling, but you don't care. He tells you he's getting married, but you choose to ignore that piece of information. You tell him you just need something, anything, to hold on to. You tell him that you feel like you're being ripped apart and he's all that will hold you together. He tells you he still loves you, but that it doesn't matter anymore. He always hangs up before you can tell him you love him back. 

The next time you call him he tells you the date of his wedding. He tells you he wants you there and as much as you want to say no, you can't. You know that you owe it to him to be there for him. That night he does not tell you he loves you. 

You haven't been home in years and your mother is crying when she hugs you. You wonder if this was such a good idea, but know that the matter is futile now. Luke watches you closely over the next few days and you think that somehow he knows. The day of _his _wedding soon arrives and as you enter the church you can barely breathe for the effort it's taking you not to cry. You watch as he stands at the head of the church and the blonde woman you saw that long ago day walks down the aisle. His eyes turn to you for a moment, only a moment, but it's enough. He's telling you that it was supposed to be you. It should have been you. He's telling you that he wishes it was you. 

When the priest asks for objections, you find yourself standing up. All eyes have turned to you, waiting for you to say something, but your lips don't move. Your sad eyes are pleading with him not to go through with it. You're begging him to turn away from this other woman and you don't need to say the words to him, you never really did. He shakes his head at you and your shoulders slump in defeat. You run from the church as fast as you can, ignoring the stares and hushed whispers of the other guests. You were too late and now he is no longer yours. 

That night your mother looks at you with sad, understanding eyes and Luke gives you pity, but you shrink away at their kindness. You know you don't deserve it because all you have ever done was leave disaster in your wake. You go back to work the next day.

You go through life as a shadow of who you once were. You write of terrors you witness every day. You drink until the pain has gone numb and his face is just a distant memory. You call him from time to time, but you never say a word. At night, he haunts your dreams. 


	24. Rosalind et Romeo

**_Disclaimer:_** I do not own Gilmore Girls

**_Author's Note_**: _Majorly random. Set sometime after the end of the show. _

* * *

i.

His hands are cold when he touches her face. She doesn't notice it though, simply closes her eyes and breathes in his scent. He brushes a feathery kiss against her forehead, gone too soon. When she opens her eyes, he's gone.

ii.

She thinks she needs a change of scenery. She's been in San Francisco for almost two years now and it almost feels like home. Her wanderer's heart won't let her settle anywhere for long.

Her mom looks at her with worried eyes when she visits home, but she pretends not to notice. When she tells Lorelai she's moving, her mom sighs.

iii.

He calls her at night when the stars are shining brightly in the black velvet sky. His words string together so she can barely understand what he's saying. She thinks he must be drinking again when he calls her his Rosalind. She almost cries when he stumbles through the words, almost reminding him that he is Rosalind and she is Romeo.

When she whispers, "I love you," he laughs before hanging up.

She thinks maybe she should start dating again.

iv.

Luke comes to visit by himself, taking her by surprise. Once the surprise fades, she thinks it's nice, her own father hasn't visited once.

She eats pancakes with extra whip cream and black coffee, while he shovels down a vegetable omelet with herbal tea. He tells her about April's grades and how Lorelai tried sneaking her coffee. He laughs when she tells him about the crazy lady that lives down the hall from her. He doesn't comment on how tired she looks. He doesn't mention Jess's name.

But the name hangs between them, screaming for attention.

v.

She comes home from work to find him slumped against her apartment door. He's holding a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand, an unlit cigarette in the other. She helps him inside, breathing in his scent as she clings to him. When he starts babbling incoherently, she silences him with a kiss. She leads him to her bedroom, ignoring the questioning looks he's shooting at her and the silver band on his left hand.

He's gone in the morning, a crumpled piece of notebook paper on the pillow beside her.

_This has to stop_.

She knows it won't.

vi.

She goes to dinner with a man from work. His hands are too soft, his hair too blond, his eyes too blue, but she thinks maybe he'll help her forget. She realizes her mistake halfway through her first drink. He talks mainly about himself and proudly tosses around names like Tolstoy, Dickens and Steinbeck. She thinks he's probably never even read any of them.

She leaves before her meal even gets to the table.

vii.

She reads The Subsect for the 143rd time, just to feel close to him. When she gets to the last page she writes in black sharpie, "Did he ever really love me?"

Her tears fall on the tattered, black cover when she closes it. She thinks she may be drowning.

viii.

She finds a letter from him in her mailbox. He tells her he's leaving his wife, but he's said that many times before. He leaves a phone number at the bottom and she sits and stares at the numbers, uncertain of what to do. Her hands find the telephone before her brain can process what's happening.

It takes him four rings to answer. When he does all she whispers is, "I think I may have loved you..." and then hangs up. She thinks he'll understand.

ix.

When Lorelai calls she's eating Indian food and watching Almost Famous. She vaguely hears the words "Jess" and "accident" before the phone slips from her hand and lands with a crash on the floor. She can't believe he's gone.

She won't accept that he won't be coming back this time.

x.

The funeral is in Star's Hollow. She almost laughs when Luke tells her this. He couldn't get away from that small town fast enough and now he'd be stuck there forever. She thinks it may be some kind of twisted irony that only Jess would appreciate. She wears his old Clash t-shirt and a black skirt.

Her mother looks at her disapprovingly.

Luke looks on with pity.

The town silently condemns her.

She thinks maybe he did love her.


	25. Altamont

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gilmore Girls :)_

* * *

/\\/\\

He hasn't slept in days. He knows he looks horrible, but the old Jess is beginning to come back out and he couldn't really give a rat's ass what other people think about him. Matt and Chris glance at him with worried expressions, but he ignores them and continues to work silently on editing. She calls him, but he simply hangs up the phone when he hears her voice. He doesn't want to talk to her. He doesn't want to have her inside of him anymore.

He wishes that she'd never come to Philly.

/\\/\\

_I love him._

She isn't sure why she lied, she only wishes she hadn't. She sighs as she stares at the blond head lying next to her, softly snoring into the stillness of the night and wishes she could sleep as soundly. Lately when she closes her eyes, all she sees is his face. She sees sad brown eyes and lips turned down in disappointment.

She wishes she had the courage to tell him the truth.

/\\/\\

He drives recklessly, aimlessly on the interstate. The few belongings he'd acquired while in Philly were packed into his old car. He'd thought he was done with running, but he realizes it was all just a delusion.

It had all been done for her, but she still hadn't wanted him.

So what's the point? What's the fucking point?

/\\/\\

She gently rubs Logan's back as he retches into the toilet. He mumbles in between puke and it becomes a rhythm, and she knows it by heart. _Sorry, puke, love you, puke, sorry, puke, love you, puke, sorry, puke. _

She's beginning to get sick of I'm sorrys and I love yous.

Sometimes she thinks Logan talks too much.

/\\/\\

He stops in a small town somewhere in Wisconsin. It reminds him too much of Coffee shops with hardware store signs and a girl that could see inside your soul with one glance. There's a bed and breakfast, the only motel type place he can find, that must have been a mansion from the late 1800s. It's yellow brick walls and fancy turrets make him think of ghost stories and he hopes that maybe fear will drive her out of his mind for at least one night. He should have remembered he'd stopped believing in ghost stories around the same time he stopped believing in fairy tales.

The only ghost he sees that night is her.

/\\/\\

She dials the now familiar number at a time well past midnight. A sleep-filled voice answers the phone, but she doesn't recognize it and for a moment she forgets how to speak. When the man on the other line begins to sound irritated she finally manages to mumble out a quick, "Jess, please?"

He tells her that Jess left over a month ago and they haven't heard from him since.

Her stomach ties itself into knots as she hangs up the phone, worry and guilt mixing their way into the heart she'd thought had turned cold.

/\\/\\

He's in Missouri now and has long ago stopped questioning his need for small towns. He writes furiously on scraps of paper and bits of napkin. Words are strung together to form sentences that make no sense, but at the same time are more right than anything he's ever written before. He thinks he may have gone just a little bit crazy, but he doesn't care.

He thinks maybe to be a great writer, you have to go a little bit crazy.

/\\/\\

When Logan pops the question she isn't surprised. She's surprised only at the word that slips from her lips. She never thought she'd sink this low, but then again she never thought she'd be good at lying. Looks like she's better at it than she thought.

_Yes._

/\\/\\

He's still in Missouri when he finally calls Luke. The gruff voice of his Uncle sounds over the phone and the breath he'd been holding in unknowingly slowly let itself out. Luke doesn't yell at him or ask him where he is. Luke simply asks if he's okay. Luke's next words have another piece of his heart falling away, just one more to add to the collection.

_Rory's getting married._

Is this what dying feels like?

/\\/\\

Her dress is French silk. Only the best for Logan Huntzberger's bride. Her hair is left down, soft curls falling down her back. She remembers how Jess said she looked best that way. He loved running his calloused fingers through her silky sheet of dark hair, whilst kissing her ever so softly on the forehead.

She closes her eyes as she remembers. Her hands go to the tiara placed on the crown of her hair, pulling it from her head. She lets it fall to the floor as a single tears leaks out from beneath her closed eyelid.

She escapes through the bathroom window, freedom is hers.

/\\/\\

He's walking down the street in Altamont, hands stuffed into the pockets of his faded jeans. He's been there for over four months now and each night he tells himself he's leaving in the morning, each morning he tells himself he'll wait just one more day. The quirky towns folk have grown on him, and he on they.

The scraps of paper and bits of napkin have come together to form a second novel.

He hasn't yet decided if he wants to publish this one.

/\\/\\

Luke said he was in Missouri, so that's where she goes. She closes her eyes and points to a spot on her map. She reads the name of the small town, scoffing slightly to herself. There's no way he can possibly have gone there, but she follows the directions anyways. She laughs at herself, knowing she's only wasting her time.

When she drives past a sign saying, "_Welcome to Altamont_", she thinks she sees a flash of leather, but then it's gone.

She really needs a cup of coffee.

/\\/\\

He's sitting in the small diner when he hears the jingle of bells. He looks up only to be met with a vision of _her_. He realizes he must have gone completely insane as he's now developing full on hallucinations, so he looks away from the wide-eyed vision of Rory Gilmore and focuses his eyes back on his book.

"Jess?"

She isn't really here, it's just his imagination.

"Jess?"

There's a quiver in her voice and he looks up, only to be caught in two clear blue pools. He's drowning and he knows he doesn't ever want to be saved.

/\\/\\

When she kisses him, the emptiness inside of her is dissipated.

When he brushes a single hand over her face and stares at her in awe, she lets a trembling smile grace her features.

His fingers entwine with hers and she knows she's finally found her way back home.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **I considered, for a good fifteen minutes, about whether or not to right "Then she turns away and runs." at the very end of this because it would be extremely fitting to the Rory/Jess saga (that never really seemed to be resolved in my opinion on the show), but then I figured it would just be mean to do that, so I didn't. Anyways, I think this is pretty much crap writing, but I'd really appreciate reviews and maybe some constructive criticsm. Thanks guys!  
_


	26. Fallen From Grace

_**Author's Note: **So this is just a major rambling. It's also very AU, I took some creative liscense. I'll try to get something up that makes a little more sense soon. My thoughts are all over the place lately so my writing has been seriously suffering. Please read and review...let me know what you think!_

_

* * *

_

The walls are slightly yellowed and the paint is cracked and peeling. You noticed a crack in the ceiling and for a moment your mind takes you away and you almost feel as if the crack is going to swallow you whole. Your chair is metal and uncomfortable and every time you make a movement it shifts slightly, but you're sitting in this circle with all these unfamiliar (so so so familiar) faces surrounding you. Your hands are shaking, but at the same time you feel more comfortable here than you've felt in such a long, long, long time and that thought scares you. A man is talking, whose name you can't remember even though he just said it not even two minutes ago, and you're drinking up every word he says because you know the words of these people could very possibly save your life. Suddenly before you even realize it the person next to you is finishing talking and its your turn and God, you're terrified, but you feel like if you don't speak you might as well just die, die die.

You close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath and suddenly your lips are moving and words are coming out and you're so very surprised (not really surprised) at what it is you're saying.

"I'm Rory and I'm an alcoholic."

And suddenly you're looking up and looking into the faces of those around you scrutinizing their eyes for the judgement you're sure will come, but it isn't there and you think how incredible that is, and then you see _him_. He's just walked into the room and he's stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of you, but only for a moment (for forever) and then he's grabbing a chair from against the wall and dragging it to the circle and sitting down. And you realize that everyone's eyes are still on you and you still haven't said anything after your name because all you can do is stare at chocolate eyes and messy black hair. And you're scared again, because it's _him_, it's _Jess_, and if there was anyone in the entire world you wouldn't want to see right now it would be him. But you also know that the words you want to speak are choking you and slowly killing you and if you don't get them out now you possibly never will. You feel your hands begin to shake again and in an effort to still them you slide them beneath you and sit on them. And before you know it you're talking and words are spilling from your lips and it's all coming out in a down pour of emotion and pent up words that you've never been able to say before.

You're talking about how you started drinking the summer after high school graduation and it was only now and then, at first, and then slowly it progressed into a daily habit. You talk about how you had to keep it hidden from everyone and you only drank when you were alone because the perfect facade of Rory Gilmore had to be upheld. You say your mother always held you on a pedestal and so did everyone else you've ever known. You were always perfect, princess Rory, with straight A's and you never did anything wrong. You were sweet and caring and never, never, never allowed to make your own mistakes. Any mistakes you did make were quickly blamed on someone else and everyone in your life has always treated you as if you were breakable, fragile. You're so, so, so tired of being treated breakable. You're human and you make mistakes and you want to be treated like everyone else.

You're rambling and you know it, but the words just keep on coming and the faces surrounding you are understand and chocolate eyes are staring at you intently, but gaurded (always gaurded). A tear slipping down your cheek as you say you've been sober for three months now and you've only been going to counseling and you didn't even know about anything called Alcoholics Anonymous because why would anyone ever tell the girl who never makes mistakes about something like that? You came across a pamphlet at your psychiatrist's office and suddenly you knew that's where you needed to be because the last three months have been the hardest, most hellish months you've ever been through filled with shaking and sweats and sleepless nights. And you're so tired, tired, tired of the bottle always being only inches away and tired of fighting it and tired of not having anyone there to understand.

You pass and since you were the last one to talk, it's Jess' turn now and you're afraid of what he's going to say. You're afraid that he's going to call you out and tell all these people (people that for the first time in your life are accepting of the person you truly are) that you don't belong here. Instead he starts to tell his story and you think maybe you always knew that he had a problem. You remember morning kisses that tasted slightly of stale whiskey and ciggarettes and you remember a night of begging to run away together (no, no, no...yes, yes, yes). He's talking about a girl that he'd been trying to escape from and never knowing when people really cared and you realize he's talking about you and he's talking about Luke and a part of your heart breaks, because for first time in your life you know exactly how he feels and you never, never, never wanted that for him. He's done talking now and the meeting is over and you're even more terrified because now you'll have to face him (reallly face him for the first time) and you aren't entirely sure you're ready for that. You don't think you're ever really ready for Jess, because it's Jess and deep in your heart you still love him (will always love him).

He doesn't say a word as he walks over to you, just spreads his arms wide and suddenly you're falling into him and your tears are soaking his shirt and he's holding you so close. His embrace is rough and filled with so much need you think you just might break, but he isn't treating you like you're breakable and he's telling you that you can get through this. He's telling you that if he could get through it, then by God so can you because you've always, always, always been the strong one. He's telling you that he knows you're feeling weak right now and he'll be strong for you if you let him and he'll never ever leave you again.

You think maybe you've finally found your home.

You've finally found your salvation.


End file.
